


A Lake Inside My Ocean

by ignited



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Crack, Dolphins & Whales, M/M, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-06
Updated: 2009-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 49,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a marine mammal trainer at SeaWorld San Antonio is going pretty well for Jared Padalecki. When an injured dolphin arrives at the park and soon becomes the top attraction under Jared's care and guidance, no one, least of all his trainer, expects the dolphin to turn out to be a prince of the ocean named Jensen. Thanks to one magical wish granting turtle, Jensen is given the chance to become the very creature he's taken a sabbatical from his kingdom to observe: a human. With the chance to learn a thing or two about each other's cultures, Jared and Jensen take to the challenge, all the while trying to ride out the emotions that keep bubbling up for each other. Featuring a cast of trainers and just about every animal under the sea, including one hungry Orca.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing Jared's planning on doing is waking up late, too bleary-eyed to function; with a hangover threatening to settle in, his coordination's shot as he rushes through a punishing and much-needed cold shower before getting dressed. He barely has time to chew a bagel and nearly dumps coffee on himself once his truck is zig-zagging through traffic a few minutes later, all mental faculties concentrating on getting his ass to work in one piece.

And the worst of it is, it's not even like he got completely _wasted_ the night before. It was a simple business dinner. A few beers and endless conversation later and he started nodding off before the dessert arrived.

Jared's dashboard and passenger seat are a mess of papers, schedules, and notes; it's everything he still needs to finish up for work. He thinks that he could've finished last night if he hadn't decided to get, as his not-so witty dinner guest put it "proactive" and "engaged" with advancing his career.

It's been creeping up slowly the past year or so, this little gnawing worry that he's missing out on something so vital and right in front of his eyes. Logically he knows, glancing back down at the paperwork, it's the not-sexy aspect of the job: research, and then, more research.

But that can't be it. As he takes the exit, same exit he's taken for too many days to count, he stops thinking about _what if_ , and gets his head back in the game. In the job.

The sky is bright blue and free of clouds, breeze ruffling Jared's hair as he pulls into the employee parking lot of San Antonio's SeaWorld. His pickup truck is ready to give up the ghost, brakes making a nasty noise as he squeezes into his parking space, stopping so hard his stomach lurches a little.

Jared catches Mike pulling up to his space in his SUV. Mike gets out of his car and an amused expression runs across his face as he looks over his sunglasses at Jared.

"That was smooth. Are you helping the environment by driving that death-mobile?" Mike laughs as Jared pulls his jacket free from the battered driver's door.

"Yeah, because a brand spanking new SUV is totally eco-friendly," Jared says, giving a pointed look at the new rims on Mike's SUV.

He reaches inside the car to grab the armful of papers he needs to finish and stuffs them in his messenger bag, making sure to pull the ID badge lanyard around his neck. Jared pushes up his sunglasses, squinting at the glare of sunlight and the sizzling pavement, the lush trees and twirling loops of roller coasters in the distance.

"It's a hybrid," Mike sniffs, hefting his backpack as he walks towards the park's entrance. It's weird to see him in normal clothes at this early hour since Mike spends most of his day dressed up as their star attraction, Winchester the Whale. "You know you're late, right? You shouldn't make Katie wait for you any longer."

Jared checks his watch. "She still with the kids?"

"Yeah, but the tour will be over soon."

Jared claps him on the shoulder and he's off, waving at his co-workers as he passes through the entrance. It's a quick trip to the employee area, but he needs to check in with Katie while she's still in a good mood before she reads him the riot act at this early hour. Coming to work late is a rarity made all the more embarrassing when he has a pretty shitty excuse for arriving with half-assed paperwork and not even a good story to explain why. Hell if he'd been on a date and gotten laid, Katie would've congratulated him.

Adding to the general embarrassment that is today (and the morning's not even over yet) is how he can't seem to watch where he's going, because he accidentally bumps into the janitor, nearly stumbling over the bucket and mop nearby.

Jared winces. "Sorry, Jim!"

Jim waves him off with a sharp nod to indicate it's all-right. His attention's focused on the nearby dolphin tanks. Doesn't matter how early or late, Jim's always at the park, cleaning. Unlike some of the other cleaning staff who do the job and go home, Jim tends to linger afterwards, always helping out. And judging by the way he looks at the tanks fondly, it's understandable.

He probably loved dolphins when he was a kid. That's how everyone who really loves working at the park started off, with the dolphins—that love and need to take care of these creatures, to do the best for them.

Or in Jared's case, rehabilitate and train them. There's nothing like working with a dolphin and watching it become the most talented animal in the entire park.

Rounding the corner, he comes across the young park visitors engrossed in giving fish to the dolphins at the feeding area in Discovery Cove. It's the best part of the day, in Jared's opinion, with the visitors beginning to trickle in, but these summer day camps always start early for the little ones. The groups of elementary school kids either take to the task with gusto or hang back at the counselors' sides, some a little scared to get up close. Around them, families with small children listen to Katie as she rattles off dolphin facts with a smile.

"Here's a quick fact for you all," Katie's saying as Jared arrives, "Adult bottlenose dolphins have to eat about four to five percent of their body weight every day. And if an average adult bottlenose dolphin weighs about four hundred forty to six hundred pounds, that's a lot of food!"

Mike, already dressed in his ridiculous costume, nods at Katie, starting to wave the parents towards him, signaling the end of the camp tour for the day.

"I hope you all had fun feeding the dolphins. Okay everybody, say goodbye!"

The dolphins whap their flippers against the water as Katie waves at the leaving kids, before they swim off and away. Her smile turns into a scowl when she looks at Jared.

"Yeah, I know, I screwed up. Slept through my alarm. Rough night," Jared tells her. The edge of the tank walls rise higher near the employee area, railings chest level, a thin barrier between Jared and the blue water.

Jared smiles sheepishly at Katie before he whistles, watching the surface ripple. A dolphin jumps in the air and twists in mid-leap, water spraying Jared's face in its wake. Getting wet is a daily fact of life at this job, and right now he's grateful for it, the cooler water jolting his senses awake. The taste of the tank water in his mouth, however, is slightly unwelcome.

"Seriously, you're such a friggin' show-off, dude," Jared says with a laugh. The dolphin chatters and clicks in response as Jared tosses him some fish from a bucket nearby. "Dean, you were good for Katie today, weren't you?"

Dean nods his body slightly before he swims away, making small circles in the large pool.

Katie rolls her eyes at Jared, this old game they're playing—how Jared can sometimes get too involved with his work, focusing on what's in front of him rather than owning up to things he can't control. But for his sake, he watches how she keeps up the game, saying impatiently, "They were all great. Even Dean was on his best behavior."

"Good to know. I trained him well," he says, puffing his chest out a bit with pride. Yeah, Dean's his favorite, partly because his story is straight out of a TV news piece.

Six months earlier, Dean was found stranded along the beach with a walrus nearby, suffering and wounded from a boat propeller. The damage hadn't been that bad—and since Dean has flourished under Jared's care and training—but it could have been worse.

In the meantime, Dean is lively and playful, chattering incessantly until Jared feeds him a fish.

"You need to give Dean his shots later," Katie tells him. "He wouldn't let me go near him."

Jared casts a sidelong glance at Dean, watching him whap the water's surface with a flipper in 'goodbye'. "Faker."

"What were you up to last night?" Katie asks, changing gears as they make their way to the employee area. "You left pretty early. Did you have a nice time?"

Jared grimaces. "It wasn't a date."

Backstage behind the tanks, they walk past the long hallways, offices, exam rooms, the food preparation areas. They reach the locker room where Jared starts to put away his jacket and messenger bag, feeling like a high school student getting ready for class.

Just as he did in high school, he's still got his head stuck in research. Jared runs his fingers along the spine of his book binder, filled with notes and photos. It's the basis for the book he's been trying to write on dolphins for the past few years. Progress has been next to nothing, because what else could he write about that hadn't been researched to death before? He'd marked down some new insights over the past few months due to the higher level of rescues the team had been going on.

Standing off to the side, Katie looks away, giving him some privacy as he starts to get changed. "Come on, Jared. What happened?"

Jared sighs and gives her a very terse recap of his business dinner with Tom Welling, director of the Mirage's Dolphin Habitat in Las Vegas. "It… wasn't the best night," he lamely concludes.

"Did you at least get a chance to talk to him about your book? See if he's interested?"

"At one point, I think I did. Somewhere between the discussion of his _awesome_ condo and the Jacuzzi in his living room." he shrugs, pulling his shirt off. "Gotta love the Vegas perks."

Her eyebrows lift curiously. "Okay, Jacuzzi talk aside, did you think about his offer?"

Jared pulls out his wetsuit, laughing. "For what? I'm not going to bail just so I could go work in Vegas!"

"Well, it could be good for you!" Katie shoots back, then calms down to explain herself. "You're a workaholic and you deserve to have a life outside of this place. Maybe you're in need of a change in setting."

Jared can see her point. He'd started his internship at SeaWorld during his last year of college, sneaking in summer jobs—lifeguard, camp counselor, house-sitting for money, _anything_ that'd keep a roof over his head and give him more experience for his dream job—and that took up most of his time. The internship at SeaWorld wasn't a paid one, but having the ability to learn about and spend time with the animals that he loved since he was a little kid, _that_ paid big time in many ways.

For as long as Jared can remember, he'd get that little twist in his chest, and involuntarily gasp in wonder with his face pressed up against the glass. Now though, the excitement feels like it's winding down. It's a job with long hours, and half the time he's cleaning up crap from the tanks.

Maybe it's his own fault for putting his personal life on the side, and that Katie's giving him the same spiel for the past few years: _take time for yourself and have fun_.

Jared finishes zipping up his wetsuit. "I don't need to think about it," he says flatly. "I wouldn't be happy there. I have everything that I want here. That a good answer?"

"Thanks for the careful consideration," Katie replies dryly, leaning against the doorway. "Anyway, you wouldn't want to work at some substandard flashy Vegas show and their crappy cetacean treatment. Just FYI. And if you do, I'll kick your ass."

"SeaWorld's not exactly beloved for their treatment of animals either," he points out.

Katie grumbles under her breath before her mood shifts and she snaps her fingers, ignoring that bit of information. "Hey! You should come over to Mike's after work. He's having a barbecue. You can't turn down _ribs_."

"And miss the _Jaws_ marathon on TBS?" He grins before she has a chance to scowl at him. "I'll think about it."

He's lying. The moment his wetsuit is on, the only thing he's thinking about are the dolphins.

 

*

 

The last jump is something he dreams about, focusing on pushing his body to the limit, trying to touch that tiny goal high above his reach. Every night he dreams of doing it faster, better, and every day he gets closer, higher, powering his body through the water. Then there's the whoosh of air as he breaks the surface, sleek body twirling in midair, hitting that buoy above as the crowd goes wild. He can feel the pride rise up in him as he's plunging back into the water, and maybe even a bit of smugness, too. It's so _easy_ and yet he wants to do better more and more. To get all the praise and accolades, and fine, to get all of Jared's attention.

He's a sucker for the attention: he'll admit that much.

Soon enough, the crowds dissipate once the show is over, Jared's voice soothing and friendly on the echoing loudspeaker. "Everyone, let's give a hand for Dean!" Jared says while he's swimming off into the holding tanks, surreptitiously watching Jared as he talks to the crowd stragglers. Jared spouts off facts to the children who stare at the tank, enthralled. He grins and speaks animatedly to the kids, eyes widening as he gestures to the tanks.

It's the same story day in and day out for them both: a dolphin show at two o'clock, Jared scrubbing down the habitats, then training him. Besides Katie and Mike, no one at SeaWorld San Antonio knows Jared—and his habits—better than his best-trained dolphin. At least, that's what Jared tells him, flashing that wide toothy smile when he accomplishes a supposedly tricky aerial feat. It's a sure bet that Jared will carry on these tasks to near perfection, just as sure as those dimples of his appear when he smiles.

And it's also a sure bet that he might stare at Jared a little too long, and think about him a little too much, almost to the point of distraction. He's slipped a few times, forgotten to answer when Jared calls for Dean, a fake name that's better than some of the questionable ones given to the born-in-captivity dolphins, such as Hacksaw, Beretta, or Peanut.

 _Jensen_ is one of a handful of animals at the park that hasn't been bred in captivity, and so he takes the stage name begrudgingly. 'Dean the Dolphin'. It's gotten easier to remember and highly marketable, which Jensen guesses it's fitting that he's one of the top attractions in the park, not surprisingly since he is pretty important.

It's a similar amount of attention back home, only with less tourists and much more responsibility.

Getting _away_ from said attention (and responsibility) is part of the reason why Jensen is at the park to begin with after all—getting clipped by a boat propeller wasn't in the plan, but then again, running away from home wasn't either.

Miles off the coast, deep within the ocean—there's a vast underwater valley that's fit for a kingdom, and in Jensen's case, _his_ kingdom.

So he's not just a 'wild' dolphin. He's a dolphin _prince_.

Jensen's the only dolphin here with an entire ocean kingdom at his beck and call, his royal subjects likely wondering what happened to their prince ever since he disappeared six months ago. And likely, they wouldn't be all that thrilled to learn the reason is that their prince decided he wanted to see the world and get away from the restrictions of his birthright.

They don't understand the confinements of being Jensen Ackles, Heir to the Throne. It's a hard mantle to bear.

Chad, the walrus that stranded himself trying to keep up with him, has a different take on it. As Jensen's royal personal assistant and his confidante, Chad is able to candidly and confidently say that Jensen "ran away from some nice tail."

It's true that Jensen's royal engagement announcement just happened to occur when he decided to take a minor sabbatical outside his family's realm.

It's not like he _planned_ it or anything.

Planning would have made sense. Maybe then he wouldn't have an especially annoyed walrus on his case.

'You're boring,' Chad moans nearby. 'I'm telling you my heartache and your head's up in the bubbles.'

'I'm not in the bubbles,' Jensen sighs. He slows his pace, a little tired from the earlier show. Doing all the behaviors is a breeze, but leaping over and over again to get a better view of his favorite trainer a couple yards away isn't exactly beneficial to his weary tail muscles. 'I'm listening to you. Sea lions, right?'

'Yeah, so, the killer whale's trying to make a move on all the hot chick sea lions—'

'I think he's trying to eat them,' Jensen tells him. 'Not trying to get with them.'

'You'd know it,' Chad says, leering. He's pretty good at that, for a walrus. As he slides over to the deck edge, Jensen tosses him a glance before he turns to watch Jared again. The last few visitors have gone and Jared is mostly going through the rounds; checking up on the other animals, making notes on a clipboard. He pushes his hair back behind his ears, and Jensen notices it's getting a little longer than usual—

Chad sighs. 'He's not gonna do it.'

'Do what?'

'Don't think Tall-human's into flippers.'

Jensen flicks his tail, spraying water at Chad. 'Shut up. And his name is Jared.'

'His name is Non-food giver, that's his fucking name. You should check out Katie. She's very—'

'Chad,' Jensen cuts in, annoyed, 'Don't talk to me about you and your trainer's routine again. I don't want to hear it for the millionth time.'

'A walrus has _needs_ ,' Chad groans, his flipper slapping the water for emphasis. 'You know how long it's been since we were outside in the open ocean? Six months! It's been half a year since I agreed to tag along with you and your stupid plan. But instead you made us leave paradise, and got us locked up.'

'You didn't have to follow me,' Jensen grumbles. Any talk about this being a good learning experience is met with snappy retorts about how that the boat propeller took a chunk out of Jensen's brain. Fortunately, other than some scarring on his left flipper and dorsal fin, he's all right.

Sure, Jensen is away from his kingdom, his best friend thinks he's a lunatic for willfully allowing humans to keep them in captivity, but it could be worse. The other animals at the park defer to Jensen in small ways. An extra sharing of fish or offerings of glittery found objects isn't the same as the pomp and circumstance he'd get back home, but that's what happens when a Prince decides to _see the world_ and ends up getting clipped by a party boat.

'Yeah, and have the King of the ocean on my ass for not keeping tabs on his son? No thanks. We're partying tonight, remember? We'll get you good and drunk, maybe hook you up with some tail. Little taste of what we could have if you weren't afraid of Jess—'

'Don't say her name,' Jensen quickly interrupts.

'Fine, Jensen. If I don't say her name, how's about we get to go home?' Chad says, nearly plowing into Jensen when he flops ungracefully into the water.

Jensen makes a disgusted noise. 'Chad…'

'Watch out for Misha tonight,' Chad interrupts. 'That guy freaks me out. Everyone keeps saying it's a Zen thing, but man, there's something off about him. Ever notice how he'll pop up out of nowhere? Like magic? Last time I heard, one minute he was in the penguin habitat, then the next minute he's chilling in the safari area. Weird.'

 

*

 

"Katie says we talk too much."

"Eeeee!"

"That's what I said," Jared sighs, taking long strides along the curving length of walkway around the tanks. This particular section—the holding tanks—is backstage and out of view from park visitors. Sometimes Jared comes by during his free time to sit and write, looking up at the moving blurs of sleek grey behind the glass. The peace of mind that comes with this space is wonderful, and the playful antics within the tank keep him entertained.

This afternoon, Jared is literally wet behind the ears, fresh after a medical scrub before he comes in for interaction. Half of his job is spent cleaning, including getting into scuba gear and diving to scrub algae from the giant tanks. The bad thing is, despite the shower he takes after cleaning, Jared knows he'll end up sitting at Mike's place smelling like fish and sweat, an unfortunate concoction that certainly doesn't help his dating prospects.

"Do you think I need a change of scenery? Katie thinks so," Jared says, last words spat out as Dean sprays him in the face and chest, a thin stream of water that catches Jared off-guard. It may have only been half a year of training, but Dean's definitely the most intelligent—and sometimes, the most spoiled dolphin out of the group Jared works with.

Listening to the noises Dean makes sound almost like human laughter to Jared's ears. "You're a horrible psychiatrist," Jared says.

Dean lets out a series of loud and impatient chattering noises.

"Timmy's in the well again?"

Dean nods up and down, swimming along the tank edge as Jared walks down the stairs. He comes face to face with the thick tank glass, staring intently at the blue grey figure within.

"I knew what I was doing when I got into this," Jared says, voice sounding small and hollow in the large space. "Thought I'd be doing something more by now, I guess. Like finish my book. Own my own place, or go traveling. Be a grown-up!"

Jared sighs. "I know I'm great at what I do, sure, but it's like everything else has been left by the wayside."

Dean surfaces for air, then plunges back down. He makes a bubble from his blowhole, pushing it out in the water, looking like he's blowing rings. It's not a behavior that's unheard of—Jared has seen articles here and there on the internet from aquariums abroad—but he's never seen it up close.

Jared moves closer, fingertips touching the glass. "Whoa. You've never done that before."

He can see Dean bob his upper half, before he starts doing it again.

Jared wants nothing more than to write it all down, because this is a new, spontaneous behavior for this dolphin. For any of them ever at this park and—

It's late. Closing time, and he has a party to get to. A chance for an active social life, instead of burying his head in all these statistics and facts.

Jared presses a palm against the glass before he grabs his notebook and bag, and he's out of there, Dean clicking rapidly behind him.

 

*

 

It's a whole other world at night once the park closes. When the animals bypass security and alarms—and mess with the video feeds—the place becomes full of life and music.

The animals come out to play at night, a whirl of bubbles, fish, and wine—how the heck they smuggle wine into the park, Jensen doesn't know, doesn't care. His beak nudging the floating bottle back and forth as Chad whacks him on his head over and over with his tail.

It's like Chad's mistaken Jensen for a set of bongos, or a little podium to balance on, not that Chad's really good at balancing. He's got the bruises to prove it, courtesy of one or two performances where the seals and walruses poked fun at the Shamu show, with 'Dean' appearing in a small cameo.

A steady buzz of alcohol courses through Jensen as he floats near the deck edge. The echo of rock music plays in the background: it's one of those the aquarium bands, maybe Fall Out Penguin or Panic! At The Fishco.

It's not important—what's important, _really_ , is that there's a pleasing kind of feeling in Jensen's belly, pushing down that little bit of worry that's messing with his thoughts. Observing humans from this situation is new and exciting, but it feels like the novelty is beginning to wear off. There's only so much that he can do in this position—so much outside of the tanks that he'll never get to see.

And so much of Jared that he _wants_ to see and learn about, to figure out what makes him tick. It's a fascination.

It's complete _torture_ , too, because unlike out in the ocean, he can't just take what he wants. He has to wait.

So, tonight, Jensen finds his vision hazy from alcohol, a little numbness going a long way to take his mind off things. Everything feels a little jumbled and off, dark blue green liquid full of movement around him. It's a mass of motion, colorful skin and scales that fluctuate within the water, keeping a small radius around Jensen when they happen to take notice of him.

For once, Jensen is glad they're backing off, keeping their distance rather than trying to cater to his whims. Not that he can think of any whims. But if he was nice and sober, and the world wasn't spinning so much, he definitely could.

By now, Chad is lounging on the deck above, regaling a couple of sea lions with a story about ball balancing, one that Jensen wishes he wasn't close enough to hear. From time to time, Chad pops his head in, looking over at Jensen approvingly.

'Having a good time?'

'Great, great,' Jensen's saying, tone flippant, waving it all off. 'Where's that guy you talked about?'

'Pete?'

'Misha?'

'Don't know,' Chad says, and judging by his tone, he doesn't care either.

'Who's Pete?' Jensen asks. 'Isn't he the penguin?'

'He's not coming. I un-invited him.'

'Why?'

'He knows why,' Chad says coolly, pulling his head back up to the surface, and away goes the possibility of asking more questions. Not that Jensen has any; he's pretty much concerned with trying to keep his composure. It's a tough job to do, seeing as the more fish and creatures passing by, he inches a little further below the surface of the tank, away from the safety of the deck.

Jensen accidentally bumps into a sea turtle that slowly turns out of a meditation pose to look at him. The turtle's shell is covered in intricate swirls and patterns that make Jensen feel a little, well, seasick. It's strangely perfect how the turtle looks at him upside down like it's no big deal.

'Jensen, is that you?'

Too many loud noises, voices in his brain that make him groggy. Jensen nods a little, peering at the bottle that by now has floated down to the bottom in the middle of some algae and sand.

'How'd you know it was me?'

The turtle's gaze slides up and over Jensen's head. 'They say your dorsal fin is bowed.'

'That's natural,' Jensen grumbles, turning to keep an eye on him. 'You look familiar. Have we, uh—'

'Met in the outside plane?' Jensen is betting the last word was _world_ , rather than _plane_ , but his head's all groggy. The turtle keeps his unflinching stare on Jensen, making him feel uncomfortable. 'No, but word gets around, here. You're a prince.'

'Yeah,' Jensen says. 'I am.'

'Then why are you here?'

'What does it matter to you why I'm here?' Jensen snaps, slowly rising to the surface for air. He gets a breath and comes back down before Chad can rope him into one of his stories. 'I needed some time away.'

'I see,' he says, slowly shutting his eyes. 'Yes, indeed. I'm Misha, by the way.'

'Thought as much. The shell gives it away.'

'Sometimes I think about camouflage,' Misha confides in a deadly serious voice. It takes Jensen a beat too long to realize he's joking. 'So you decided to take some time away from your responsibilities and family?'

He says this as he waves at a group of fish that wander by. It takes skill to wave, especially upside down. Whatever, Jensen could totally do the same thing. Even if Misha's guilt-tripping him, saying, 'Don't you miss your kingdom?'

'Humans are interesting,' Jensen counters, and he'd wave a flipper too, only any complex body coordination right now is shot.

Misha cocks his head, looking down at Jensen. 'And you were bored?'

'No, that's not—' Jensen stops, feeling a bubble of anger rising up. Who is this guy to interrogate him? 'That's not it.'

'I'm not judging your choices, Jensen.'

He slowly circles Misha, ignoring the fish swimming around them. 'What do you know, anyway? Chad warned me about you.'

'Oh, did he?' Misha says, sounding like it's no big deal at all. He suddenly rights himself, a quick movement that sends Jensen jerking back, feeling sluggish. 'Did he tell you what I deal in?'

He wants to joke about bubbles when Misha says, plain as anything, 'I deal in wishes.'

'Sure you do.'

'I come from a long line of wish granters,' Misha states.

'Right. Can you make me able to leap tall buildings in a single jump?'

Misha swims closer. 'That could be arranged.'

They've reached a stalemate. Or impasse. Or whatever the word is, as Jensen's still not quite coherent yet. He waits, hearing the distant, barking laughter of Chad and chattering noise of the others above on the surface.

'If you'd like my services, all you need to do is ask,' Misha says, swimming backwards in a small circle around Jensen. 'I've been watching you. You look troubled. Do you have a wish that I can grant you?'

'Oh yeah, I've got a wish, _Mr. Magic Sea Turtle_ ,' Jensen says, slowly rolling in a pathetic corkscrew in the water. He's never been one for losing all his inhibitions—either common sense or royal training taught him that, he isn't sure—and so he only tries to be cheery as he rights himself. The fact that he had to impress Jared with a new behavior just for the sake of him staying a little longer, no, that wasn't sad at all.

Totally not like he's drowning his sorrows right now.

'Please, my father is Mr. Magic Sea Turtle.' Misha quirks his head to one side and then says, 'Fix on your heart's desire, Jensen.'

'My heart's desire,' Jensen scoffs, an image flitting across his mind, unbidden. That open, contagious laugh, the one that no one is impervious to and the melting, brilliant smile.

'It's done.'

'What's done?'

'Listen to me, Jensen, this is important. You have to stay still and…'

He's saying other things, too, but the sounds come out garbled, lost in the sudden bubbling water as a school of fish zooms around them, knocking Misha backwards.

Jensen nearly swings his head into Chad, who's poking his head into the water. He doesn't catch Misha swimming away, lost in the crowd.

'Tequila shots!' Chad hisses, whiskers twitching. 'The girls want to do body shots. Come on, Jensen!'

Jensen blows a few bubbles pitifully, trying to lift his head and look for where Misha went. Whatever, Misha was probably just messing with him. There's no such thing as real wish-granting sea turtles. 'I can't do shots?'

'Roll on your back and I'll show you how to do it,' Chad tells him with a huff, and that's the last sentence Jensen has ever wanted to hear coming from Chad.

Then again, those words are the last thing he hears before his vision goes dark, slipping into unconsciousness.

 

*

 

Jensen has no idea where he is.

There's sea green tile and frosted glass surrounding him, very much _not_ one of the tanks. This is bad.

His body feels _wrong_.

Alcohol-soaked memories float to the surface: the bad feeling in his stomach as he sunk down in the water and the spasms that enveloped him, water bubbling with heat, sparks and swirls of bright-hot energy changing him inside and out. The desperate ache for air as his body shifted and melted. The feeling of his lungs burning as he tried to swim to the surface, but his changing body wasn't cooperating and unconsciousness had closed in faster than he could anticipate.

Which brings him here, awkwardly lying on a tiled floor.

He tries to suck in a breath before the panic sets in. It reminds him of the claustrophobic fear that grips him whenever the trainers try to do an in-depth physical and put him in the sling and lift. How the tightness of fabric and flat surface pushed and compressed his body, making him feel helpless out of the water. Completely vulnerable and exposed.

When he tries to breathe, the action startles him because it's different. His blowhole is missing, there isn't any water and he's going to dry out—

It comes to his mind, then, a familiar ghost story meant to frighten young dolphins, barely older than calves: a bad dolphin punished by going up on land forever and drying out.

While Jensen would like to not freak-out, the encroaching cold grip of fear seems to be doing all it can to push him towards panic-mode.

Jensen wriggles slightly, lying on his back. Forces himself to focus and take in the impossible surroundings, the impossibility that he's breathing _fine_ now.

It's a shower stall. Somehow, he can fit into a human-sized shower.

He is going to dry up and die in some human's bathroom. How _embarrassing_.

Jensen sucks in another deep breath when he notices that he has arms. And a human torso.

And legs, even a weird third leg right there—oh, that is not a third leg. That is definitely a dick. A human's dick.

A… oh fuck.

He's a _human_.

Quickly figuring out whether or not he can stand, he gets up on shaking feet, catching the glimpse of a stranger in the room. Wait. No, that's not right. He's looking into a mirror, at _himself_.

'Wow,' Jensen clicks.

Of course that's the exact moment the owner of the house walks into the room.

 

*

 

The first thing Jared does is stare. The second thing is scream, voice embarrassingly high-pitched. And the third is pulling up his pajama pants, morning bathroom routine interrupted, as the situation calls for it when there's a naked man standing in his shower. Jared readjusts his crooked t-shirt, trying very hard _not_ to look at said nakedness, as the man laughs and says, "Oh, wow. I can speak like a human."

That makes no sense.

Sure, there are a lot of things that don't make sense right now. Jared has no idea who this very naked—and very hot—guy could be and if he's the first wave of stealthy naked robbers.

Though Jared senses a flaw in this cunning plan now that his morning brain is catching up with other… morning aspects of his body, he's kind of noticing that this stranger looks like he's walked right out of Jared's dirty fantasies.

Like how he'd have his hair just long enough for Jared to tug and hold, bangs falling against his forehead. Or how he'd have a lush mouth ready to be put to good use. How he'd have bright, clever eyes that always gives away the game even if his face—or voice—say nothing.

And freckles. Jared really has a thing for freckles.

"Jared? _Jared_ ," he repeats, a little more confidence in his voice. "It's me."

It hits Jared, the realization that there's still an uninvited naked stranger in his shower, who _knows his name_. This has gone from the beginning of a great porn to the end of a creepy slasher flick.

Jared grabs the first solid thing his hand can come into contact with, holding up a toilet plunger in defense. "Who the fuck are you?!" Jared shouts.

"You called me Dean. Dean the Dolphin? But my name is Jensen, actually."

The man's brow furrows and he cocks his head, abrupt and unearthly. Only then does Jared really look into those eerily beautiful green eyes and sees that there's something off. How he looks a little too curious, his eyes _too_ green, and everything about him is just not right.

But most of all, there's something so not _human_ about the way the man claiming to be Dean looks back at Jared. And Jared thinks for a moment that maybe, just maybe it _could_ be him.

It could also be that Jared is having one hell of a dream and he pinches himself just to make sure. "Oww," he says.

Naked Guy—no, he has a name, _Jensen_ , steps out of the shower, turning to close the shower curtain and Jared gets a look at the jagged line of flesh along his back, close to his spine, a scar that Jared recognizes. Another scar almost bisects two of his fingers on his left hand, the same hand that's poking at the different items on the sink with fascination. The scars bear an unsettling resemblance to the same ones Dean has, although now the raised flesh is on freckled and tanned skin.

"Jared Padalecki," he says, turning to face him. "This is your home."

"How did you—?" Jared lowers the plunger. "If you're Dean—and I'm losing my mind here so, yeah, I'm willing to play along—why are you human? How are you human? And what are you doing here?"

Jared could easily play twenty, no wait, better make that _two hundred_ questions, the way this is going.

Jensen frowns. Jared hears a _clicking_ noise. A sad clicking noise, registering from somewhere in the back of Jensen's throat.

People don't not click when they're sad. At least, no one that Jared's met.

"Do I look wrong?" he cranes his neck, pinching his stomach, looking down. Then he cups his balls and Jared's brain decides to die right here and now as Jared fully notices that the guy's dick is half-hard. Standing at half-mast, actually.

Whenever Jared busts out with a nautical reference that is when he knows he's completely fucked.

Jensen takes a step forward and hesitates, unsure of his balance, Jared assumes. Being that he's probably the first dolphin to experience bipedal motion. He stares down at his bare feet, mystified as he wiggles his toes.

"You're a dolphin," Jared says numbly. He can feel a headache coming on, pulsing beat in his head matches the ringing in his ears. After a second though, Jared realizes it's not ringing in his ears, but _actual_ ringing, as in the phone.

"Jared, I—"

"Um, I have to get that," Jared lamely says, artfully dodging the naked human, but in reality, _dolphin_ blocking his path.

As Jared darts to grab his cell phone before the call goes to voicemail, Jensen follows after him, sitting down on his bed. Naked.

Right. Jared will have to lend him some clothes.

At the other end of the line, there's the loudness of a busy amusement park. Katie's voice is low and falsely pleasant—a sign that tells him she's angry.

"Jared? Are you still at home?"

"Katie! Uh, hi. Hey. Yes I am here. Here being home." Jared sighs deeply and sits on the bed, ignoring the naked guy beside him. It doesn't keep his voice from being pitched a little too high, Katie making a suspicious _hmmph_ noise.

"Well, that's great but I need you here, pronto! Can you come right now?"

Jared feels a knee brush his own, Jensen's hand wandering up from his spot on the bed to drag his fingers up along Jared's side. "Hey. Stop it."

"What?" Katie pipes up, confused.

"It's—it's nothing." Jared angles his head, watching as he's mimicked by Jensen, almost getting in the way of the bright LED numbers of Jared's clock. It's early, and he's still on time, naked distractions or not.

"Look, Jared, we have a problem…"

And this is it. This is where Katie brings up the missing dolphin, and where Jared loses his job and he's shipped off to jail or a psych ward. Because if what he thinks might be true, and this is Dean, then there's a dolphin missing from the park. 'Magical transformations' don't exactly fall under the 'Acts of God' clause in the park insurance.

"We caught a streaker on the premises." The phone sounds muffled, bursts of yelling in the background. "Do you think you can help?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few," Jared says, body rigid as he watches Jensen look around curiously, fingers curling into Jared's rumpled bed sheets.

Well. That isn't giving him any kind of incredibly wrong ideas.

"Great. This is going to be a real interesting day," Katie sighs, and with that she hangs up.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jared says to no one, flipping his phone shut.

Beside him, Jensen sprawls back on the bed, stretching and testing out the reach of his new limbs. Knocking into Jared with one of his legs.

Yeah, Jared is not staying in the house with a naked guy. It is incredibly depressing that he has to state that several times in his head before he actually moves off the bed.

Jared scrubs a hand through his hair, moving towards his closet. "I guess you're coming with me."

"To the park?" he asks, quirking his head. He sits up straight, looking up at Jared. He looks so eager and excited, like they're off on a field trip.

Jared reasons it's a better alternative than letting him stay in the house, because there is no way he's letting a naked stranger hang around walking around all… nakedly in his house.

This is going to be a long, long day.

 

*

 

Clothes are _annoying_.

They're restrictive, uncomfortable, and rough against Jensen's skin. Jared won't let him peel all the layers off, saying stuff like "public disruption," "no shirt, no shoes, no service," "jail," "park regulations" and "very distracting."

The last one was said with kind of a desperate whine as Jared drove to the park, his eyes focused on the road.

The motion of cars is very strange.

Jensen recognizes most of the terms Jared used—the human versions of law and government are not too different from the aquatic ones. However, in the ocean there are no laws about being naked.

Everything feels physically and mentally disorienting for Jensen. His vision and hearing are impaired, and everything feels like it's moving at half speed, these slow blurs of human faces as they make their way towards the Dolphin Cove. Looking through air has always been different than looking through water, but now he's on two clumsy legs and covered in tight fabric.

"Clothes aren't practical," Jensen tells Jared again.

"Lower your voice," Jared says. "And pull your shirt down."

"Sorry. But they're not helpful for swimming. And they're restrictive."

The curved roof of the Dolphin Cove interaction area is right nearby, surrounded by trees and endless crowds of children and adults. Jensen's senses are dulled in this body, but it doesn't mean that there aren't advantages, like the human sense of smell. Cotton candy, sweat, water and the chemicals in it, and above it all, the close smell of _Jared_. The familiar scent of him is brought into sharp relief now: those manufactured additions to the human body, to his skin. Shampoo in his hair. Aftershave on his face.

Jensen strains to see and listen to it all, feeling his mouth curve at the corners. He touches it experimentally with his fingertips. A smile. Jared does it often, a gesture that always made Jensen feel at ease. It makes him feel happy now to be able to smile on his own.

At the moment though, Jared is not happy. Jared bares his teeth, which can only mean that he wants to fight or mate. Jensen figures the latter is impossible as Jared keeps muttering lowly every time Jensen lags behind, still working out his new human senses.

"People need clothes, Dea— _Jensen_ ," Jared says, correcting himself. Jared tried to argue during the ride that technically, 'Jensen' is a last name. He seemed impressed when Jensen explained his ancestors came from colder waters up north.

"We, and uh, I mean people by that, we need protection from the harsher elements. Like the sun, okay?" Jared pauses, raising an eyebrow. "And for modesty."

"I have nothing to be ashamed about. This body is nice-looking," Jensen tells him, running fingers down his exposed flat belly.

Jared takes a while to look away, Jensen notes. "Come on, before Katie kills me."

Soon enough, they're backstage and in the locker rooms, where Katie is waiting for them with a skinny blond man. The man's face lights up immediately at the sight of Jensen, reaching out to grab him when they move closer. Jared looks surprised when the blond guy immediately pulls Jensen into a hug.

"Jensen!" The man pulls back, eyes narrowing. "You smell like sex. Did you get laid?"

"Chad?" Jensen asks, and Chad nods. Jensen tries to push down the initial surprise at wondering why Chad is suddenly a very pale and partly naked human, and is thankful that at least he's wearing pants. Maybe Jared was right about how clothing could be necessary.

Over Chad's shoulder, Jared frowns. "You know this guy?"

"Chad? Yeah, he's my… He's my cousin," Jensen pipes up.

Chad scowls. "Oh, so I'm your cousin now? Does this mean I get an army to command? Or control a small hamlet? Do I get ladies in waiting?"

"Only if you're a lady," Jensen says, for the first time really feeling like himself since waking up in a human body. "You'd have men in waiting."

"Way to kill my fantasy."

"Okay!" Katie shouts, her arms crossed. "Someone wants to tell me exactly who the hell you guys are, and why we aren't taking Mr. Born Free here to security?"

Jared's arm wraps around Jensen's shoulder, other hand pressing against his chest. "Jensen is an old buddy of mine from college. He's staying with me for a while to… help me with my book. I guess, uh Chad, here, he's a bit of a prankster. Why don't we leave these two to catch up and I'll explain everything," Jared says, giving Jensen a tiny smile before guiding Katie into one of the offices.

"Your 'cousin'," Chad says, annoyed. He grabs a SeaWorld jacket hanging in a locker nearby and pulls it on, forgoing zipping it up. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"You're lucky I acknowledged your presence," Jensen says, as snootily as possibly in English. It sounds so much better in Dolphin.

"You know," Chad says, lifting Jensen's hand to inspect the scar running across his two fingers, "the whole snobby royal routine doesn't work on me."

"I know. It was a joke," Jensen says, jerking his hand away. "You're a human too, Chad. What the hell happened to us last night?"

"I don't know! You were talking to Misha and then you started to get all sea monster on me. I tried to see what was wrong, but whatever was happening to you, you passed it on to me. By the way, thanks, asshole. I woke up on the deck backstage, all human."

"Misha did all this?" Jensen asks numbly, trying to focus his thoughts. It's hard to do so, especially if what Chad's saying is true, and there's honest to god _magic_ involved. Magic spells like transformation or enchantments have always been myths, as far as he had ever known.

It isn't like dolphins didn't _believe_ in possibility of magic: they just didn't see a reason for it to exist. They were glad with the way things were, kept to their own interests while also establishing one of the greater sea kingdoms. Human involvement had caused the first rumors of spells—the ridiculous tales of mermaids, selkies.

But there were never any stories in recent memory. Because, yeah, prince and kingdom and all, but they had their limits. Magical wish-granting turtles were one of them.

A limit ready to be broken, it seemed.

"Looks like he's the real deal. Zen master with the magic flippers," Chad declares.

Jensen rubs his temple, a strange, unfamiliar pressure building. He wonders if he's getting one of those human headaches. It's unsettling and dizzying, but that's how he felt the night before, back when he was in his old body, and when Misha was telling him. Telling him that he had to do something.

It was lost in the water, in the transformation. Jensen remembers something, an imperfect memory, only an echo of a voice.

 _'Three months from now, until sundown at the end of the third month. It will happen, give or take a few hours'_. He repeats Misha's conditions to Chad, who snorts in disbelief.

"So what the hell does that mean? We're gonna be stuck like this for three long-ass months? Great."

"Chad, it can't be all that bad…" Jensen trails off. It feels as though he's asking permission from Chad to go through with this, when isn't this what he wished for? What Misha pulled from his thoughts and made reality?

Chad sighs. "Yeah. All right. But don't sex up Tall-human in my line of vision. Which is all weird, now that I'm human. Do you realize how _small_ I am now?"

Jensen begins to answer, because Chad saying that he's like this because of _Jared_ , that's ridiculous. But that's when the office door opens and Jared and Katie are walking towards him and Jensen can't do anything but stare.

Jared gives Jensen a smile and thumbs up, letting him know that everything is going to be fine. Something in Jensen's chest begins to uncoil, a pleasantly warm wave washing over the tightness and worry.

 

*

 

"Um, are you hungry? Do you eat? I mean, you did before so I know you _eat_ , but do you want food? Now?" Jared asks, squinting in the sunlight, trying desperately to make small talk and failing hard at it.

His mother would say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and while winning Jensen's heart isn't Jared's ultimate goal—as much as it's hard to ignore Jensen's very appealing looks—Jensen does look hungry, his attention perking up at the mention of food.

"I could eat a whole school of fish," Jensen answers.

They're silent for a moment before Chad rocks on his heels, making this impatient huffing sound. He rolls his eyes and pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket. Which Jared doesn't recall him wearing before. "Yeah, I'll leave you two alone. I'm gonna take a look at the rest of the park for once."

" _Chad_ ," Jensen hisses, plastering a very fake smile on his face as Chad walks off.

"Hey I told you before. I'm not watching you—" and here Chad says something vaguely incoherent, which sounds to Jared's ears, kind of like a rude noise a walrus would make.

So this can safely be recorded as the strangest day of Jared's life.

Chad is already walking down the hallway, as Jared calls after him, "Talk to Katie and she'll get you an ID badge!"

"Damn it, Chad," then Jensen lamely says, "He's a very good friend."

"That makes sense. So he's a walrus."

"Don't hold that against him. He's all right. You know, for a walrus."

Jared decides the wisest action would be to nod and pretend like he has a clue as to what the hell that means.

Part of Jared is glad that Chad isn't with them right now—it's weird enough as it is having a walking, talking former dolphin around, but adding in the former Wally the Walrus, yeah, it's a little bit too much at the moment.

Then again, that other part of Jared wishes Chad _was_ around, so Jared would have someone else to look at, to distract himself from Jensen's questioning gaze.

So he goes for the small stuff now: lunch, a perfect time for explanations.

The seafood restaurant a few blocks down from the park isn't exactly Jared's ideal lunch setting, but he guesses he should make baby steps when it comes to figuring out Jensen's diet now that he's got a human digestive system. He can't help but mentally take notes on Jensen's new feeding habits. There's no way to ignore years of training, even when his subject is stuffing food into an inviting human mouth.

Okay, question time first, ogling later. "So... walruses and dolphins can be cousins?"

Jensen frowns, looking up from a mouthful of calamari, the tiny tentacles poking out of the corner of his mouth. Swallowing, he says, "Chad is not my cousin, Jared."

"I guess I'm missing something here. In fact, SeaWorld seems to be missing one dolphin and a walrus this morning. Finding out how that happened would be nice."

Jensen bites his lip.

"But as it turns out, their release papers were in the office," Jared says, leaning back. "Clean bill of health, perfect behavior record. They were cleared to go as soon as possible and were taken out to sea last night. The park even has their removal and release on the surveillance cameras. It's almost like magic—like they were never there. Only I didn't release them. Katie didn't either. But the evidence is pretty hard to ignore. So I must be going crazy, right?"

"I _am_ a dolphin, Jared," Jensen says after a moment, keeping his gaze on his empty plate. There's a softness to his face that makes him look deceptively young but when he raises his head up, his eyes are sharp and focused. "I won't lie to you. There was a spell–"

"A spell?" Jared echoes.

"Yes," Jensen says, twisting his mouth, annoyed. "I think that Chad must have been caught in the spell that changed me. He has nothing to do with this. He's harmless."

"For a walrus?"

"Yes, exactly." He pauses, as though he's mulling over his thoughts. "I know how unbelievable this seems. If I wasn't sitting here, eating this food… oh, can I go try the all-you-can-eat buffet? That sounds delicious."

"Um, sure," Jared says weakly, opting not to ask how Jensen is able to read English. Maybe they teach it at dolphin school. He's willing to accept a lot at this point.

"Sorry. I'm kind of hungry. As I was saying, I sort of… Well, I made a wish."

"A wish?"

"To… observe humans. Walk amongst humans. I only wanted to watch you for a little while and see what you humans are like."

Jared's stomach drops somewhere between his knees. It's too easy how this—this _being_ has slipped into his life, barely a ripple with the outside world, when he's causing a near tidal wave in Jared's own life.

Not to mention filling Jared's head with one too many ocean metaphors.

"So," Jared scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm on a lunch date with Aquaman."

The second the words are out of his mouth, he wants to reel them back in, feeling his face burn.

Jensen cocks his head, curious. "Is this what you humans call a date?"

"What?" Jared asks, voice pitched a little higher than he'd like. He scoffs, poking at his food with a plastic fork. "No, this isn't—It's not a date. Do you know how long you'll be here? Like this? Human? Do you know if this is permanent?"

"I'm not sure." Jensen swallows, his gaze furtive. "You don't have to, ah, chauffeur me around if it's too much of a burden. You have your own life and matters to attend to."

"No! It's just—" Jared hesitates. "Of all people, why choose me? You could pick top political leaders or scientists if you wanted a look at humans. Best of the best, you know? I'm only a marine mammal trainer with a crappy social life."

"Because you're Jared," Jensen says flatly, like that explains everything. "I know you. I know how you are. Let's call this a mutual learning experience. I'm sure you'd like an exclusive look into the world of dolphins from a real live insider!"

There's the hook line and sinker, Jared's sold on the idea. If Jensen can provide that kind of invaluable information; then it could be the very last push Jared needs to finish his book. Jared forgets for a moment that he's sitting across from someone who's only been human for less than a day and sticks his hand out to shake Jensen's in agreement.

Jensen takes that as a cue to lean across the table, nose and mouth rubbing awkward against the crux of Jared's neck and jaw. Jared gets a face full of freckles, tan skin, and bright eyes, warmth that seeps into him. In the back of his mind, he knows that a face rub is one way for dolphins to show care and sincerity, except this is basically being nuzzled, something that Jared hasn't had happen to him in a while.

And his body knows it, his cock stirring as Jensen pulls back with a brief rub of his nose against Jared's own.

Jensen beams at him. "You know what we should do now?"

"No clue." That's a lie, as his dick is definitely pushing him towards an inappropriate and _never going to happen_ option.

"All. You. Can. Eat! I'm _starving_ ," Jensen says. "I eat, you ask questions, I answer, you eat. Our species have that in common."

"It's rude to talk with your mouth full."

"See? I'm learning already."

 

*

 

By the time they get back to the park to pick up Chad, Jensen can feel his stomach begin to twist in upset, a wave of nausea from the food more than nervousness. Calling it a half-day, Jared manages to drag them both to his place without any major incidents. Smaller incidents being Jensen feeling nauseous and Chad rocking out to the tinny sound of Jared's busted up truck radio, shouting: "I love this song!" every time a new song started.

For Jensen, it's almost like being a child all over again. There's that brief struggle, trying to mimic one's parent and learn how to adapt in a new world. Swimming comes naturally, but it's a _hell_ of a lot more different when this world is on dry land, and the body is that of a human.

Jensen is licking the pink stuff off the corner of his mouth, a delicious liquid called Pepto Bismol. It's not his fault that his human body could easily be full with such a small amount of food. Jared had only shaken his head and told him that three plates of seafood was enough for a small army before he fed Jensen some of the liquid, gave Jensen a blanket and pillow, showing him the couch and calling it a night. Tomorrow, Jared said, they'd go over the basics.

The fact that Jensen's stomach is cramping pretty badly on just his first day of humanity does not bode well. The _other_ fact that there's much more to learn about being human makes him a little nervous, but he's used to rising up to a challenge.

They come to find the house they're staying in with Jared is not his own; as was explained several times after Jared caught Chad nosing around a drawer full of undergarments meant for a female human. It is large and nicely furnished, and they learn Jared is 'house-sitting'. Jared indicated the rooms they were free to explore: the kitchen, living room, a small bathroom off the hallway.

The second floor is off-limits as Jared himself is staying in the guestroom on the main floor. According to Jared, the bathroom is fantastic, proudly showing off the stand-up shower and the polished white tub positioned under a window overlooking the backyard. Jensen's not sure how such a tiny space surrounded in glass and flowery shower curtains could be considered fantastic, but then again, there are many things about humans that he doesn't understand.

It's almost completely quiet in the house. Without his normal hearing and echolocation, he feels like he's stuck in a void, blind and deaf in the darkness.

The only sound that is constant is Chad's snoring on the recliner nearby. Sleep doesn't come easy on an upset stomach and so Jensen is resting on an elbow on the couch, peering outside through the glass doors. The lights of houses nearby glitter with activity. Humanity seems to move into every direction, surrounding and covering every visible surface. It's almost as vast as the ocean, except it lacks the calm and quiet of the ocean's surface, the soft hush of white caps of waves.

Humans seem powerful enough with their destructive machines in the ocean. But Jensen thinks he might have been naïve to never consider just how powerful they are on land.

It gives him a chill, hair standing on end. Strange how this body feels cold, even in the clothes Jared had lent him until they could get him his own wardrobe. He knows enough about human culture to know that these items require money and hates the idea of Jared giving when Jensen can't give him anything in return. One more thing to worry about.

Besides the whole problem of lying about his background.

"Hey."

Jensen turns around, seeing Jared standing in the doorway. His hair is messy and his pants are slung low, hallway light illuminating his neck and chest.

"I can't sleep," Jensen confesses. "It feels weird. Like I'm shutting off."

"That makes sense. We've always thought marine mammals slept differently, and—I'm rambling. Sorry." Jared rubs the back of his neck. "You'll be okay though? Chad's out like a light."

Chad snores loudly, awkwardly turning on the La-Z-Boy recliner, one arm tossed over his head.

Jensen nods in the direction of the backyard. "Whose water is that?"

"You mean the pool? It's um, well I guess I use it. There's a hot tub section and a diving board," Jared says, sliding the glass door open as Jensen follows him. "Katie tells me I should throw parties but I can't because the house belongs to a family friend. Meaning I have to see these people at family gatherings and it would bad to be known as the house- _trasher_. I'm staying here until I can get a new place that's closer to the park."

Jared sighs, stepping out onto the smooth stone walkway. "It's a quiet space. I like it."

"Jared?"

"Yeah?"

Jensen grips the doorway with one hand, listening to the soft, comforting slosh of water in the pool. He looks up at Jared who's watching him expectantly. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

Jared stares at him for a moment, face unreadable. And Jensen thinks that this is the time that he should explain himself, really explain why he's here to Jared.

But soon enough, Jared quirks his lips, a tiny smile as he turns his head away to look into the pool. "You're welcome."

Jared heads back to his own room, it takes about five minutes for Jensen to get comfortable on the couch. Another five and he's almost drifting off into that strange darkness of full sleep when Chad mumbles, "So, we're looking at three whole months of you cockblocking yourself, huh?"

Jensen groans, mouth muffled against a couch pillow. "Shut up."

Chad wriggles in place, trying to get comfortable.

"Well. A vacation in this human body will be fun," Chad says, sighing happily. He murmurs, "Chicks dig me," before he's snoring again.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky blue is and clear through the kitchen windows that morning. On any other day, it would be picturesque, calming and peaceful, but today is the first morning where Jensen is fully conscious of his human body. Conscious of its harder angles and how it gradually wakes up, and oh, it has a morning erection.

It's _weird_.

The lack of movement—of awareness—this body has during sleep is unnerving. It's natural for his old body to keep part conscious when he falls asleep, swimming at the surface, aware of his surroundings. But now, Jensen thinks it shouldn't be so easy to just drop out of consciousness.

Funny how he thinks it's strange that humans can just stop any time and rest, without a care in the world.

Jensen waves an arm, leaning back in his chair. He and Chad are at the small kitchen table, where Jensen ignores the urge to poke at the fruit bowl on the table, the skin thick as a wax covering.

"For your first night as a human, you guys are sleeping in separate areas. Did that spell mess you up?" Chad lowers his voice. "Seriously, did it? Like, physically? Because mine is a little smaller and—"

"I think it's supposed to be smaller," Jensen interrupts as Chad shifts in his chair, face scrunching. "Humans are smaller proportionally."

Chad is quiet for a moment, probably mourning the size of his walrus dick. Jensen curiously sniffs at the waxy fruit to distract him.

"I think we should compare. For science."

Jensen sticks his tongue out at Chad.

Chad rolls his eyes. "Yeah, gotta make sure that's in tip top shape."

"My tongue?"

"That's what humans do, isn't it?" Chad mutters. "With their _mouths_."

It's weird how Chad is able to make the idea sound disgusting, when he's pretty much the antithesis of straight and narrow morals.

"Jared has a nice mouth," Jensen admits.

"And?"

"And what?" Jensen says. Chad gives him an imploring look, and Jensen groans. "What do you want me to do, go and dry hump him in public?"

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step," Chad says, picking up a newspaper. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Jensen feels his guard going up. It's _Jared_ , that's the thing. But with the spell, everything shifts their relationship askew. Jensen hasn't been able to voice his thoughts, or feelings, and really it's too early to think about it while he's dealing with this morning erection thing. He scowls, which only gets a laugh out of Chad.

"You should be grateful Jared's letting us stay here in the first place," Jensen says.

"With one of us, you mean. There's no way I'm staying here while you two are bumpin' uglies."

"We're not," Jensen points out.

"Better work on that."

The time limit troubles Jensen—three months feels like too short a glimpse of the human experience. And if he's going to lie to himself, isn't that what this is all about? See the world, get away from rules and privileges, or royal subjects catering to his every whim. Live his own life.

Meet someone on his own, without his family or his birthright interfering.

"You found him, now all you have to do is mate with him, get that out of your system, and then we can go home," Chad says in one breath, voice flat and gaze fixed on the newspaper. He looks up. "Right?"

Right. Chad is totally right. There's no other reason for Jensen to stick around once the time is up. He can have his fill, get what interests him, and then leave.

It's temporary. It's all temporary.

"Hey! You guys ready to go?"

Jared comes into the kitchen all big smiles and friendly posture, slapping Jensen on the shoulder. He's dressed and freshly showered, that same scent of aftershave that fascinates Jensen for a moment.

Jensen tenses, leaning in to Jared as he bends down, eye level with them at the table. "You two are coming with me. I think I can pull some strings, call in a couple of favors. No point in keeping you two locked up while I go to work."

"Uh huh. Learning time," Chad says lightly, a last glance at the newspaper before he's ready to go. It has only struck Jensen now how extremely bright Chad is dressed, a contrast from his normal monochromatic coloring. His Hawaiian print t-shirt is a riot of reds, blues, and greens and the long yellow board shorts he bought at the gift shop yesterday afternoon have lime green cuffs that make Jensen's eyes ache a little.

At least Chad looks extremely comfortable.

Jensen, on the other hand, still can't get used to clothing. If he had his own way, he'd be nude all the time, but judging by Jared's frantic looks the day before, he can't get away with it. Which is a shame, seeing as this body is pretty nice.

So he settles for the nearest option, taking a cue from the trainers: swim shorts and a tight t-shirt, his head canting to appreciate the long lines of muscle as they walk through the park halls later on.

It's all narrow hallways and high ceilings, a little too claustrophobic for his taste, yearning for a bigger space to move around in. By the time they're ready to do food prep, Chad says he's not interested in getting his hands dirty, that he'll leave the two of them _alone_ , winking no less, because why not make it even more obvious?

While Chad thinks he's helping, Jensen wants to berate him as Jensen isn't exactly sure he should be in close proximity with Jared. Especially when he does that strange little laugh, a puff of breath, ducking his head down. It makes him consider Chad's questionable dating advice.

Not that he'd dry hump Jared. That would be awkward.

 

*

 

Once he's rapping his knuckles on the assistant supervisor's door, Jared realizes he's basically fucked himself over.

Yeah, completely fucked when it comes to this arrangement. And it's not even like he's carrying a torch for Jensen either. Because that would be weird and Jared is ninety percent sure it would be ten sorts of unlawful.

He hasn't had a roommate since college, and even then, that doesn't technically count since his roommate had been MIA most of the time, popping in and out between lacrosse and dorm parties to ask Jared for notes in their shared classes.

"You're full of shit," is Katie's first comment a few minutes later, standing across from him in one of the tiny office, small window covered in mesh that Jared tries to peek through, looking out for any passerby.

"I'm not," Jared tells her, pushing his hair up off his forehead. "Jensen's been in the field for the past few years. He lived with a pod of dolphins. Like the Grizzly Man. Only they didn't eat him like that bear did."

"Dolphins don't eat people, and you're still full of shit," Katie says. "You have _never_ , in all the years I've known you, told me about your old 'marine biologist college buddy'. Ever. Then this hot guy shows up with his naked cousin. How can I be sure they're not, like, cruising through town on E doing glow stick raves at the tanks after hours? What the hell is going on, Jared?"

Jared rubs the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. He's amazed how quickly the lies come.

Katie would be proud of him for stepping outside of the box. She might not approve of the law breaking involved, but hey, a step was a step and oh god, he is so fucked. So very fucked.

Metaphorically speaking of course.

That thought leads him to blurt, "Remember the IMATA conference last year? Jensen and I hooked up. He just got into town and called me up; he needed someplace to stay, so I offered—I couldn't say no, because he's a good guy. We started talking about my book and things kind of snowballed from there."

Katie's look of faint surprise shouldn't throw him so much. It's not _that_ implausible.

"He's got some real good ideas, you know?" Jared finishes lamely, sinking deeper into his chair.

There are some nuggets of truth in the lie when it comes to the conference. Jared had attended last year's International Marine Animal Trainer Association conference for the panels and free food, although it counted more as a work outing than it did as a vacation. Yes, there had been no hooking up. Mostly he spent his time geeking out over panels, and scaring away any potential hook-ups with said geeking out. He did get an awesome haul of dolphin-related souvenirs. Shot glasses are always handy.

Katie narrows her eyes. "Just work. Not play?"

Jared plasters on a smile. "It's completely platonic."

She seems to take it for an answer, though her posture slumps a little, like she was expecting something else. Not waiting for him to talk, she shrugs, saying, "As long as he isn't a distraction," and then it's all talk about the schedule for the rest of the week.

There are new behaviors that they've been working on with the dolphins, check-ups scheduled, and some tours they're splitting hours on. It's business as usual—she even helps Jared with the Guest ID badge and clearance access for Jensen, as well as helping pick the right size of wetsuit.

Everything will be fine. It'll be like college. Only without the horny jock roommate and bumbling co-eds; and more with the formerly animal, _possibly_ horny roommate.

"Great. Thanks," Jared says when he holds up the wetsuit, clamping down any thoughts on how far it will stretch over taut muscles. He does pretty well not thinking about it for the next half hour when he's in the kitchen with Jensen and Chad.

"How long have you two known each other?" Jared asks.

Chad, meanwhile, is nursing a bottle of orange soda, cradling it to his chest like he's discovered gold and he'll never part with it. He nods at Jensen though, lips smacking.

"Since we were kids," Jensen answers, and the image that comes to mind isn't some sort of cute kiddie play date at a park, but a tiny little dolphin and walrus, which in any other situation, would be adorable. Except it's a sharp and weird as all hell reminder for Jared.

"It's my job to keep an eye on him," Chad interjects, holding up one thin fish by its tail. He's standing near Jared, hyper and restless as he bounces on his heels. "Gotta make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble."

Jensen rolls his eyes.

Jared snorts. He can relate; he's got an older brother with that old protective streak. "Is that why you beached yourself when he was hurt?"

"I didn't _beach_ myself," Chad protests. "I was getting a tan!"

"You could be out right now sunning yourself," Jensen suggests, a touch of acid to his voice. A strange look is shared between him and Chad before Jensen changes the subject, saying, "Jared, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorting out the good fish from the bad fish," Jared explains when he catches Jensen eyeing one particular pile. "Tossing out the crap ones so the animals don't get sick."

"That’s very thoughtful of you," Jensen says but Jared has no idea if he's joking or not. Jared notices that it's as though Jensen is unsure how to move his face because he isn't used to _making_ expressions. Dolphins don't have muscles to make facial expressions, really, except for that eternal grin, an anatomical quirk.

Chad, on the other hand, has no problem with scowling at the array of food in front of him.

Jensen points at a basin to Jared's left. "Are those Mahi-mahis?"

The basin holds a number of colorful, small fish, the same ones Jared would always set aside for "Dean" as a special treat. "Yeah. These are for the sea lions."

Brow furrowing, Jensen stares at him, face carefully shifting into a strangely needy expression—disappointment, even. "The sea lions?"

Chad snorts, hand coming up to palm his face. "Oh, here we go…"

"Didn't you used to save those for me?" Jensen asks pointedly, "and not the sea lions?"

It's true. Jared has always been one to give Jensen preference, whether it's attention in training or in food. Saving part of the monthly shipment of those particular fish for Jensen hadn't been a problem for Jared. It was pampering, plain and simple.

Of course, that's before Jensen turned up human, so—

"Yeah, but you have to eat people food now," Jared says, looking around as he lowers his voice. "You can't eat these anymore. You can eat fish but not—"

He stops speaking when the door swings open as Jim wheels in a cart loaded with buckets of fish, worn-out cap pulled low over his brow as always. He grunts when he passes by Jared, never one for morning conversations.

Jared thinks it might have to do with the eagerness Jared has despite the early hour. Or it could be that Jared's talks about sea life usually leave Jim telling him he needs to get out "in the thick of it". Jim usually gets quiet after that, lost in his own memories. Jared doesn't pry into it, but he's always polite with the man, unlike others. Mike's always saying Jim gets his rocks off by leaving out fish out for the younger workers to slip on.

"Hey, Jim!" Jared smacks away Jensen's hand from the Mahi-mahi basin. "This is Chad and Jensen. They're gonna be shadowing me for a while."

"I'm not! I'm just here for the food," Chad says cheerfully.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared sees Jensen kick Chad in the shin.

Jim nods in their direction, barely glancing at him before he _really_ looks, and he stops cold.

And then he walks right over, his eyes all narrowed and suspicious. Jared tenses, ready to blurt out something, anything, in Jensen's defense, _oh god, does he know, can he tell? How can he tell?_

Jim tips his cap up, standing a foot away from Jensen, looking him up and down, then over at Chad. "You look familiar. You two from around here?"

"My dad has a place off the coast," Jensen replies smoothly, "but my cousin and I are staying with Jared while we're in town."

Jared can feel his fingers squish uncomfortably in one handful of bad fish, and he tosses it, trying to loosen up and not worry.

It's a hard thing to do, as Jim isn't letting up, gaze now scrutinizing Chad. "You that kid out in the lockers that beat up the Coke machine earlier?"

"Yeah?" Chad sounds sheepish, turning red. "I was thirsty, dude. Not like I can get a beer around here."

Jensen groans. "You don't drink beer."

"Well, I could now if I wanted to!"

" _Guys_ ," Jared snaps, wiping his hands on a towel nearby. "I think we should leave Mr. Beaver to do his work, okay?"

It's another strange, drawn-out moment before Jim turns on a smile—which is completely out of character for him—and Jim says, "Chad, you mind helping me with this cart? Then we'll go check out the machine, see if she's running again."

It's about as bad a detour for Chad that Jared can think of, because judging by Chad's worried stare, Jared really hopes the clanging noises he heard earlier doesn't mean the machine's busted. But since it's up to Jim to call in about those repairs and there's ridiculous paperwork involved in fixing anything, maybe he's right in making Chad do a little manual labor.

Jim leaves the room with his cart, tipping his hat to them both as Chad follows behind, scuffing his sneakers guiltily.

Jared gives a low whistle, shaking his head. "That was close."

Hopping off the counter, Jensen stretches slowly, shifting his weight from either foot. He's still learning how to use his body, his movements a little stilted and awkward, but there are moments of abrupt speed and grace. The traits he'll learn once again if he's given time—there's never been a challenge that Jensen wouldn't turn down.

"Why did Jim think that I looked familiar?" Jensen steps uncomfortably close, his eyes large and seeking answers. Pretty hard to say anything back, because the concept of personal space isn't one that Jensen has familiarized himself with yet, and he smells like coffee and chlorine and well, fish. It works on him.

"Maybe you remind him of an old friend?" Jared offers, grabbing the prepared basins.

He doesn't wait for Jensen's answer, only hearing a disappointed grunt behind him as they leave.

Outside, the water ripples in the main exhibition area. Jared can see the far-off enclosures where the dolphins are kept, and the bigger tanks nearby that serve as the whale habitat. Katie crouches near the water, rubbing the tongue of the resident adult male orca, Winchester.

Unlike others who might shy away from the 'killer whale', Jensen needs no encouraging. He immediately moves to the water edge, Jared barely having time to grab his shoulder and prevent him from jumping in. "Hey, wait a minute!"

Jensen grunts before he starts these drawn out clicking noises. The orca pulls back from a surprised Katie and allows Jensen to rub his head.

"He can understand me," Jensen says, shocked. He isn't the only one who's surprised, because up until a few moments ago, Jared had thought the noises were eccentricities. And yet, Winchester is responding to him, soft noises and body language warm and welcoming.

It's the first time too, that Jared sees Jensen grinning from ear to ear. And judging by the way Jared feels himself smiling back, he wants Jensen's grinning, beaming face to be seen more often.

"I missed you too," Jensen says to Winchester, rubbing his head.

"Missed you?" Katie looks at Jensen, then up to Jared.

"Jensen used to work with orcas," Jared supplies. "Excuse us, Katie!"

He drags Jensen with him off to the side, yanking him by the elbow.

"What are you doing?" Jared snaps, his tone softening off Jensen's wide-eyed look of innocence. "You have to be careful with how you act, all right? Katie won't understand."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble," Jensen says, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder back at Katie and the clear blue water. "I got excited. I didn't think I could talk to him like this."

"Why don't you go check on Chad and I'll catch up with you later? I've got some work to do. You guys stay out of trouble and I'll buy you something at the gift shop later, okay?"

"All right," Jensen says, heading back towards the main building. Jared can feel an uneasy knot in his stomach, like he just kicked a puppy—or better off, lied to one. Offering a reward for good behavior to a trusting and adorable puppy.

He really does need a vacation. One away from both water _and_ animal metaphors.

 

*

 

Soon enough, the park is buzzing with activity; sights and sounds that Jensen can barely take in, overwhelmed by everything. There's the many rides that twirl and shake, blazing ribbons of color with the sound of laughter and screams. The Great White, Rio Loco, and Texas Splashdown are all thrill rides that attract the masses in droves, and the crowds can't get enough of the newest ride, Journey to Atlantis. The grounds slope up and down to different areas of the park, as though the curves are designed to lead kids to the rides, to lead parents trudging up small hills with carriages and arms full of plush sea animals.

Groups of dancers and acrobats weave around the park, along with fearsome and fighting pirates. The park grounds are lively and buzzing, the loudspeakers shouting out park announcements between blaring rock music. The whole place is _crawling_ with activity.

It reminds Jensen of the ocean, always full of movement. As exciting as it is, though, nothing is better than the Dolphin Cove. People of various ages and backgrounds gather by the pool, cheering on the dolphins that come to swim by for food.

Hanging back behind the groups, Jensen can take in the delight exhibited so openly on their faces, see which children take initiative or shy away. Children, Jensen decides, are the best kind of humans—genuine in their emotions, always showing their enthusiasm, always restless and ever questioning.

He can relate to the questioning part because as luck would have it, no matter who he asks, he can't get a hold of Chad. Asking for Jim's whereabouts is the safe route, because he's the last one seen with him, and because any reference to a blond and scrawny guy has a lot of workers replying, "What, the streaker?"

Seems like gossip travels just as fast on land as it does at sea.

His fruitless search coming to a standstill by lunch, Jensen returns to the Cove, looking for Jared. Over on the other side of the pool, Jared talks to a few of the trainers, smiling at times but serious for the most part. Jared had told Jensen that he was an Assistant Director—explaining he was higher up than the others and could give orders. It doesn't stop him from having a laugh with those beneath him. Jensen can admire that.

He can also admire the broad shoulders and thick muscle that's underneath the tight black wetsuit.

Jared looks up and catches Jensen's eye, nodding in his direction. Automatically, Jensen's body—because he is perfectly okay with blaming it for these clumsy responses—starts waving his arm in greeting enthusiastically.

"You're a natural charmer, Jensen," comes a voice near his shoulder, making Jensen jump.

The man next to him wears a trench coat, his dark hair messy and short. The weather's too hot and humid for the coat, which peeks open to reveal a baggy SeaWorld T-shirt and sarong wrapped around his waist. He's also wearing hiking boots. It's an outfit that even _Jensen_ knows looks out of the ordinary.

"Don't worry. It's me," the man says, "Misha."

Jensen eases up a little, canting his head. "You're the one that did this, didn't you?"

"Who else would have?" Misha shrugs, taking care to remove a piece of candy from one of his many pockets. Slowly unwrapping it, he says, "I gave you what you wished for."

"I didn't ask for you to do this." Jensen presses a palm to his own chest. "I didn't think you'd make me human! I thought you were joking—and I didn't even _say_ anything, either! It shouldn't count. That's cheating."

"That's a lot of negativity there, brother," Misha says, eyeing the nearby crowds curiously. He pops the candy into his mouth. "Would you like me to change you back?"

"What? No!"

It's weird how easily Jensen refuses. For one thing, he's afraid Misha will change him instantly, on a whim, and then he'll be drying out on the concrete, a panicking dolphin out of water. And the other thing—the illogical, heart hammering part—is the thought of Jared.

"You wished to be with him and see his world," Misha says gently. "One doesn't have to voice what the heart truly feels. I gave you the tools to get what you wanted. Made you what he would want."

"You can do that?" Jensen asks numbly, already knowing the answer. He's human, Chad, too, and Misha creates bodies and guises with _magic_ , the strong, sturdy stuff Jensen had always passed off as ghost stories, myths.

The power is evident within Misha, what with him being here on two feet and looking as cool as a sea cucumber, his eyes this brilliant, electric blue.

"Do you know how much effort goes into creating a new person out of thin air? All this red tape you wouldn't believe. Then there's _specifics_ : the shape of your nose, the bend of your legs, the timbre of your voice. That precise height and the arm span, the color of your eyes at sunset. And those other _human_ details, all the legal business, creating identities.

"It's hard work. It's not like I can whip up a pretty face for you and call it a day. Luckily I'm very good at what I do so it only took a few hours. I did misplace you but that's the fault of heart's desire wishes. You can never guarantee you'll end up where you started, if you follow."

"I don't."

Misha cracks his neck, a left-right turn of his head, as though the explanation exhausts him. He adds, as an afterthought, "Sorry about your driver's license. You had your eyes closed in the photo."

Jensen swallows, craning his head to look out for Jared over the crowd. It isn't the pull of Jared that he's yearning for, but the comfort he brings, because this is too strange. He feels oddly conscious of his body, his fingers twitching, grasping at air. Grasping for some semblance of normalcy, and even the reassurance that Jensen's here in all ways that are legal—less of a headache for Jared—don't alleviate his discomfort. "How long will this last, though?"

Misha sighs, as though the technicalities bore him. "You have three months from now, by sundown to confess your love and have him love you in return. Or else you'll revert back to your former self. Your human self will cease to exist."

"That's pretty specific."

"Hey, I don't make the rules. I just follow them. Otherwise, wish-granting is _chaos_. Have you ever been to Brazil?"

"I can't say that I have," Jensen says, raising an eyebrow at Misha.

"By the way, you have specific parameters when it comes to water. Manmade water enclosures are fine. But salt water from the beach or ocean will transform you back," Misha says.

Jensen doesn't need to be told that twice—spell or not, one dip in the ocean and there's a chance that any nearby sea creature could take notice, beginning a swift game of underwater telephone that would will alert his kingdom to his location.

"So I'm, as far as the paperwork says, an actual human," Jensen clarifies, his gaze trained on Jared. The stare goes on a little too long, and from far off, he can see Jared meet his eyes, wary and confused before he acknowledges Jensen with a nod, _you all right?_ mouthed.

"It looks like Jared needs you. In more ways than one," Misha says softly. "I wish you luck. You'll need it."

"Yeah—wait, wait a minute, what about Chad? Do you know where he is?"

Misha frowns for a moment, and then he's grinning as he slinks off into the crowd. "Chad's in good hands. You'll meet up with him later. Jared has something to show you. I suggest you pay close attention, if you want to keep your legs."

And it's right there that Jensen turns around to see Jared standing behind him, hair wet and curling at his temples, saying, "I want to show you something."

His voice is low, almost secretive, as Jensen follows him, hand unconsciously rubbing his thigh muscle, as though checking to see it's still there.

 

*

 

The underwater tunnels are Jared's favorite part of the park. Backstage, light flows through the tank water in ripples, shifts and ribbons that send twirling shadows down on the information placards and smooth hallway floors. Everyone is set in a constant hue of blue green from the water around them, high above in the glass tunnels that the visitors love to look at, various sea life swimming feet above. Tropical fish in hundreds of shades flit about through vivid coral, eels and sting rays slinking up and over the fluttering current. And that's not even counting the different shark species, swimming endlessly.

Jensen twists his head back and forth constantly, jerking it abruptly whenever he sees something new and fascinating. Light plays along the soft angles of his face, a light dusting of freckles that Jared glances at, standing nearby. He watches how Jensen stays quiet, running his fingers lightly along the glass, peering up at the water across and above.

Everywhere his fingers touch, small fish linger on the other side. Colorful ones, dull ones, every shape and size seems to take notice of this particular visitor. The guest credential he's wearing swings on its metal chain as he moves forward, hand trailing along the glass and fish following in his wake.

For one short, weird moment, Jared feels like he's watching a living Disney cartoon character, moving with a trail of cute animals frolicking behind him.

"What is it?"

"It's not the same," Jensen says softly, looking over at Jared. "It's beautiful, but it isn't the same."

Jared rubs the back of his neck. "It's the only thing we've got that can come anywhere near to how the ocean really is. How is it, Jensen? Living there?"

Jensen snorts, dropping his hand from the glass. The group of fish dissipates, wandering away. "I kept close to my family. Our… area. And then a few years into adulthood, I decided I wanted to explore on my own. Didn't want things that were handed to me on a silver seashell, you know. I needed to do things on my own for the first time. So I left and Chad followed me."

"Dolphins tend to stick with their pods," Jared acknowledges. The hallway turns into a larger area, placards of information changing from fish to mammals, until they come right under the underwater section of the dolphin tanks. Parents and children mill around the glass, pointing and taking photos. "You broke tradition."

"Sort of." Jensen hesitates. "They wanted me to go off on my own for a while with a partner. But I decided not to."

"Why's that?"

They reach the large viewing area with low benches. The concave glass wall is massive, at least twenty feet across, with children barely tall enough to reach the railing. Jensen stands off to the side of the glass, fingers tapping on the railing. Either he's still enraptured with having opposable thumbs or he's avoiding the subject.

"I wanted to make my own decisions. Not what my parents think what's best for me."

Jensen places his left palm flat against the glass, the raised skin of his scar shiny and pink in the underwater light. His shoulders hunch in, the energy sapped out of him. Jared isn't going to push, instead coming over to bump him his shoulder gently, standing next to him. Through the glass, two or three of the dolphins hover, their attention directed at Jared and Jensen. Faces with perpetual half smiles, they chatter animatedly, darting back and forth behind the glass.

"Do you think they recognize you?" Jared asks, keeping his eyes trained on the sleek grey shapes, before he sees Jensen begin to smile out of the corner of his eye.

"They better. They followed my lead," Jensen says, and then as an afterthought, "Not that you humans didn't do a good job."

Jared's about to protest when Jensen whistles and makes a circular motion with his finger. It takes a moment, but immediately the dolphins start blowing bubble rings.

It's a new behavior, one that only Dean— _Jensen_ —had done the day before he appeared. They arc up and down as air shoots out of their blow holes into bubbles that they round out with their beaks, rings of air floating outward. The dolphins weave through the water with effortless grace, sending the bubble rings scattering, looping and twirling.

Visitors stop to stare and gawk at the tanks, children pointing and laughing. What was once an empty hallway is now buzzing with attention, little faces pressed against the glass.

Jared looks above the crowd to the dolphins. Two males, Gabe and Milo, and one female, Spirit, are up to this new behavior, amusement in their body language at the sudden crowd of onlookers.

"Show-offs," Jensen murmurs.

"Did you do teach them how to do this?" Jared says. "I've never seen them do that before."

"Yeah, because _some_ of them liked to show others up, especially during the sea lion shows, _Spirit_ ," Jensen says pointedly. "That's cool though, right? You like that?"

"Yeah…" Jared says, hesitating. They look at each other, an awkward moment passing between them. The pause is something that Jensen seems to latch onto, looking crestfallen while Jared struggles to figure him out.

 

*

 

By the time five 'o clock rolls around, Chad is still nowhere in sight and Jensen is starting to get worried. He decides to take another look at the nearest gift shop. With the crowds thinning out as night approaches, it's easy for Jensen to move through the winding paths until he meets the rush of tourists all trying to pick up last-minute souvenirs.

There Chad is, leering at one of the gift shop workers passing by with a box of merchandise. He's on his haunches, arranging stuffed sea lions into neat rows.

The Dolphin Cove gift shop is almost overwhelming in its bright colors and business for this late hour, young and old people all trying to buy gifts bearing the likeness of different forms of sea life. Jensen doesn't understand why people flock to these items, but then again, there's a lot he doesn't really understand about humans.

Chad, on the other hand, is taking to his new body like a duck to water, leaning over a display, the better to ogle one of the attractive female employees.

Jensen cuffs him on the back of his head, getting a yelp of surprise. "You got a job here? What are you planning to do, sleep here overnight?"

"You know, not all of us can be dolphin experts. Some of us gotta work minimum wage," Chad says with a shrug, standing up. "Plus, I got a sweet hookup. You need your space, I need mine. And no, it's not with Sophia in aisle five, but I'm working on it."

Jensen stares at him for a moment. Chad is relaxed and carefree about the whole thing, like it's not a big deal at all for him to go off and get _lost_ somewhere. Chad has always been around Jensen in some capacity since they were kids. "Are you saying you have somewhere else to stay?"

"Yeah, kind of?" Chad hesitates, like he wants to move closer and console Jensen, which would be weird. Sure, they're used to each other all the time, but that doesn't mean they do the touchy-feely junk.

"That what you talked to Jim about earlier?"

Chad directs a frown at the mound of stuffed animals. "That was more like manual labor. But anyway, Jared pulled the right strings, and Jim sealed the deal."

"Really?" Jensen says, impressed.

"Yeah. You ask me, he just wants to see me busting my ass." Chad shrugs, saying, "Look, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm leaving or anything. I'll be around but I don't want to interrupt you two."

And just like that, it's settled.

"So," Chad says, with a lecherous eyebrow raise, "how'd it go?"

A few minutes of explanation later, the grin is gone and Jensen feels restless, trying to get a foothold on the situation when he can barely concentrate, unable to get exactly what's bothering him.

"I'm trying to impress him, but I never thought I'd have to work so hard."

He rubs the back of his neck, this nervous tic he's picked up from Jared. He can feel him in his _movements_ , the instinct to mimic him still lying beneath the surface. Learning new skills, testing them out—and if the sound of his human voice is anything to go by, Jared's influence is there, too, how it drawls on certain words like it's never done before. He licks his lips, remembering Jared's own voice and mouth as he adds, "I don't know, three months, being like this, trying to get him interested. It's not enough time."

"Dude, you're still Jensen, right? The guy who gets whatever he wants; royal duties be damned! C'mon, you took off when your parents threw down an ultimatum and now you're going to let Tall-human scare you? Where are your balls, man?"

Chad's face lights up all of a sudden, the wheels of his mind turning into something devious, having him grinning, bright and toothy.

"I know _exactly_ how to make him eat right out of your hands."

"I don't think that's done."

"What?"

"Eating out of someone's hands."

Chad looks around Jensen, smirking at Sophia over in aisle five. "If it's wrong, I don't want to be right."

 

*

 

"So, you can give them commands?" Jared asks, leaning into the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. He almost gulps the thing down whole, fighting off an attack of hiccups.

Better to drink than eat right now, because shouting through mouthfuls of food won't really get the message across. Not that he knows Jensen's hearing it since he's in the bathroom and for all Jared knows, he's spending time getting himself acquainted with that _other_ part of human packaging.

For all the teaching he's given Jensen about human life, there are limits. Bathroom business is one of them.

"Jensen," Jared calls, knocking on the bathroom door, watching the door open to emptiness—a fogged up mirror, steam that starts to condense, and all the images of soapy rivulets that sluice down Jensen's chest and legs are just the creations of an overactive imagination.

When he finds him in the study, Jared's glad he's turned away so Jensen can't catch the way Jared's face is scrunched up, pushing down that bit of want that stirs in his belly. Or stirs in his dick, judging by how quick it responds to the sight of broad, bare shoulders in front of him. Or the curves of his back, the strong lines and dips of his spine, fresh from a shower.

Jensen is in boxer-briefs and his hair is swept up in this ridiculous faux hawk, still wet and aching to be messed up by Jared's fingers.

Jensen's hands meanwhile are sliding slowly across smooth stone and stained wood of the marine themed items on the mantle and shelves. If it wasn't for Jared's family already loving the ocean, he doesn't think he would be where he is right now: they pushed and supported him, letting him stay with his uncle and aunt for a few summers to try out their boat. Here at his uncle's house, the nautical memorabilia remains on display: an old miniature diving helmet, compasses and ships in bottles, the smooth wooden Native American carvings of whales and dolphins.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jensen murmurs, turning to look at Jared.

"No," Jared says slowly, sighing. "You taught the dolphins how to do the bubble rings, didn't you?"

Jensen shrugs, non-committal. "They went by my example. I thought you'd like to see it again."

"Jensen…"

The look Jensen gives Jared hopeful now, and it's amazing how quickly he's learning. Another day and the blank expression shifts, more awareness to his face, as though a haze is lifting and his real self can shine through.

It takes all that Jared has to continue on with his train of thought, saying, "Sure, I liked getting the chance to see that behavior. Don't get me wrong, it's great having you here, but you can't hold back stuff like that. Communicating with them is one thing, but commands for a rare behavior like that… That's different. I don't… I don't know if it's good for you to draw attention to yourself. Just be careful, all right? We need to take things slow."

It's the first time Jared sees Jensen's face fall—first that he's ever looked upset, human body or not. Dolphins always look happy, even when they aren't.

Jensen reaches up a hand in the air, as though to touch Jared, but he hesitates. He drops his hand to his side as he says, "Okay."

He leaves the room, then, this awkward shuffle of feet as he moves past Jared. "Good night."

Jared feel a lump in his throat as Jensen passes, like he's done something terribly wrong.

He looks over at the nautical items Jensen touched, and it clicks in his head as he goes to grab a few books from the bookshelves on myths and dolphins, a departure from the usual paperwork he does. Done in the name of a houseguest that Jared steadfastly tries not to think about as he begins his research.

 

*

 

During the summer months the San Antonio SeaWorld park is open every day from ten to six. The summer settles in with hot and sticky weather, water spraying and beer flowing free from the tap, a mix of sights and tastes that Jensen is fascinated by. He isn't used to being out of the water for so long, as no amount of showers can replace that unsettled dryness he feels. But he gets into the activities, doesn't quite shy away at the sensory overload. It's part of the desensitizing process that all aquatic mammals had to go through in the park: introduce them to sudden changes or shifts in their everyday lives.

And now Jensen is dealing with a change of his own and no, not the walking on two legs, being constantly dry, and breathing through a nose stuff. What he's dealing with is playing by the human mating game.

Chad has a plan and Jensen had agreed to follow it. He's still wrapping his mind around _that_ but the plan, it's one part genius and two parts _scary_.

The plan starts like this:

The first thing Chad suggests is "play hard-to-get". How Chad learned this when his dating scene consists of him and a couple hundred other walruses in the colony back home, Jensen has no idea.

So, going on Chad's advice, playing "hard-to-get" means completely ignoring the object of your affection. Offer no more than a few teasing hints, and drive them wild until you finally give in right when they're putty in your hands.

It's a far cry from what Jensen is used to, because in the vastness of the ocean, if you met someone new, you stuck around and tried not to drive them away. You also usually went from first meeting to seeing if they were up for mating right then and there, but that's another story.

"Unless they're crazy," Chad explains, looking over the rims of his aviator sunglasses. He leans against a railing next to Jensen, looking out of place in his gift shop uniform. "Then you bail. Sophia isn't crazy. She's hot."

Jensen cants his head, shading his eyes in the bright sunlight. "Don't you have a girlfriend? Kenzie? She seemed to tolerate you."

Chad stares at him. "She's a beluga."

"So?"

As though he's weighing his options, after a moment Chad shakes his head, pushing his sunglasses up. "She only wanted me for my body," he sniffs.

Still, despite Chad's sketchy personal dating record, Jensen is taking his advice to heart.

Playing hard-to-get has Jensen standing near the door to the show tanks with Chad, trying to look casual as Jared is pulled in the water by two of the dolphins, bright and grinning. Jensen tries not to bristle at how Jared rubs their heads and offers encouraging words—it's natural that he does it, it's Jared's job after all, but Jensen has always been a little jealous at Jared showing his attention toward others. There are the Atlantic Bottlenose and Pacific Whitesided dolphins, the false killer whales, the belugas, orcas, and then, the _sea lions_.

Jensen's always had a thing about sea lions. It's completely irrational.

As is the plan, because this so-called idea of casual merely has Jensen all contorted, not at all casual but _modeling_ near the tank, looking away whenever Jared gives him a glance. After a few times, Jared stops looking over, instead concentrating on his work.

Running through new behaviors isn't the monotonous process it appears: it sometimes takes weeks or months for an animal (clearly one much less talented than Jensen) to perfect the behavior through positive reinforcement. The trainers will ask them to jump a little higher, move a little faster, and slowly but surely they get results.

Frankly, the dolphins can usually pick up on it on first go, but nothing beats getting an extra rub or fish in there.

As far as Jensen can see, Jared excels in his field here: he's friendly and charming with the visitors and other trainers. Always patient and firm when he needs to be, like trying to discourage bad behavior with the dolphins, or reprimanding one of the apprentice trainers, Brock. But they're always working hard, all of them wanting to make sure the animals are happy and healthy.

So if Jared doesn't take a look in Jensen's way for the time being, it's understandable.

"This is a stupid plan," Jensen says, only Chad isn't listening—he's too busy checking out the girls wandering by, appreciating the merits of hot weather and skimpy clothing. "I think I must be doing this wrong."

"You can't just go up to the guy, sniff him a few times, and whip it out," Chad points out. "I think humans can get arrested for that kind of thing. It blows, dude."

"Thanks, Chad. Thanks for letting me know," Jensen says disgustedly, keeping his eyes on the tanks.

He watches a young woman standing near the scale deck, looking at readouts on her clipboard. Baseball cap on, sunglasses balanced on the brim, her body language is frustrated and searching, craning her head to look over at the darting shapes in the water. On one of her scans of the area, she catches Jensen watching her, offering a tight lipped smile.

Jensen hesitates and then jogs over, Chad barking at him as he does. "Hi there. Something wrong?"

"No, no, I'm trying to get the male up for a check-up," she says, fumbling. The woman sticks her hand out, looking flustered when Jensen stares at it, wondering if this means she'd like a face rub, just like Jared did. "I'm Lauren Cohan—the veterinarian? And you are?"

"Jensen. I'm a…" He looks down at the badge, trying to read it from upside down. English is annoying upside-down. "Ma-rine bio-lo… Dolphin expert."

"Really," Lauren says distractedly, kneeling down by the water. "So you're the one that's been following Jared around."

"Observing him, yeah."

"He hasn't been forthcoming in where you've come from—I'd say he's trying to keep you a secret," Lauren says bluntly, peering up at Jensen. "Actually, he's never been forthcoming about these sorts of things. He rather enjoys keeping his private life out of the gossip circles at the park, you see."

Jensen frowns, looking over at the water. He isn't sure whether he should agree or disagree with her point. Being kept secret is something he can handle, given his background. But on the other hand, a secret is usually something to be covered up, and that means Jared could be angry with him. He's definitely been moody for the past few days.

Instead, Jensen ignores the worry, saying, "You want him up here?"

"Yes, but I can ask Jared or—"

Jensen picks up a nearby bucket heavy with prepared fish. He smiles at her before he makes a low, whistling noise, watching the surface ripple. Two seconds later, the pair is sprayed with water, all of the nearby dolphins rushing up to bob their heads as they wait. And the one dolphin in particular, Milo, slides up on the scale deck easily.

'This good?' Milo asks, getting a nod from Jensen.

"Perfect," Jensen says, and then murmurs under his breath, a clicking noise that's low under the sound of waves lapping at the edge. 'Do whatever she says, all right?'

To Jensen, the dolphin's response sounds huffy, 'if you say so', but to Lauren, it probably sounds like chattering and clicks, right before Jensen shuts up and tosses Milo some fish.

Later on, Jensen learns that it's more than a little out of the ordinary for a guest observer to give dolphins commands and for the dolphin to respond perfectly, without question. It's a _very_ out of the ordinary when it's one of the males listening to a male stranger.

And that's how step two of the plan begins.

 

*

 

After a few days, Jared's mind is running through a gamut of emotions, highs and lows that are stronger than the Red Bull he'll take to get himself through an especially grueling day.

It's not like Jensen _means_ to be the way he is—magical wishes aside—but within a few days, he's the talk of the town. Talk of the park—whatever.

He's making friends left and right, the other trainers asking him for favors or just to observe him, because he's this so-called 'dolphin whisperer' who can pretty much get any of the mammals to do anything he asks for. Even new behaviors, complex ones, without indicating his commands with hand gestures. All he needs to do is speak to them softly and they listen.

The only mammals at the park that respond to auditory commands are seals, sea lions, and walruses, as they're able to hear human voices. The other mammals hear on a different wavelength; and all technical mumbo jumbo aside, there's a reason that trainers typically use physical gestures over auditory ones, save for the high pitched whistle.

Jensen slips easily into a consultant role, talking animatedly to Jared during and after work. Always chipper, enough so that once in a while, it becomes grating.

The fact that Jared is letting this get to him is ridiculous. Jensen used to be— _is_ , he is a _dolphin_ , that eerie, inhuman sense and restless energy shaped into one handsome package that's walked straight out of Jared's fantasies.

He's a real challenge, Jared reasons. An interesting one, that can be enthusiastic and hyper in trying to help out the trainers, or solemn and quiet when he wants to be.

More like a whirlpool of emotions that Jared is trying his hardest to adjust to.

Already a rush of impatience comes up in him as he moves to the lunch table with his tray of food, seeing Jensen, Aldis, and Katie seated and talking. When he sits down, he's hearing the tail end of a joke, feeling that uncomfortable smile that comes on when he's not in the know about the topic of conversation.

"Jensen was just telling us how you two met," Katie says, popping a French fry into her mouth.

Jared coughs, almost sputtering his soda. "He was?"

"Yeah, man. Surprised the hell out of me," Aldis says, leaning back in his chair. Besides Jared and Katie, Aldis is one of the top trainers at the park, always joking around and getting into the thick of it with Mike. The two of them could pull the perfect comedy show when necessary—that is, Mike standing around in his whale mascot costume and Aldis making jokes to the sea lions at Mike's expense.

In fact, Jared thinks Mike's getting lunch at the other table specifically because he's still annoyed at the last show when the sea lions pulled him into the water at Aldis' command.

The whole time they're sitting there, Jensen is staring at Jared intently, his food tray forgotten. It's unnerving to feel that gaze on him, sea green eyes looking unearthly. It's uncomfortable, too, making Jared blush, as Jensen starts to talk, penetrating stare softening.

"I told them I saw you come out of nowhere, rising right out of the water, looking like a Greek god. And you came over to me and asked me if I was okay," Jensen says, his voice low, finally tearing his eyes away.

Thinking back, it's partially true. Except for the Greek god part—but checking to see if he was all right after the rescue, well, that's true. It's been months since the rescue, when they first met, so it's a little satisfyingly comforting to be able to hear the gratitude in Jensen's voice, to see the admiration in his eyes.

So naturally, Jared ruins the moment by going, "Yeah, and then we hooked up behind the diving board. The IMATA conference hotel was very accommodating."

Jensen cocks his head, confused, wheels turning in his head before the realization dawns on him. The back story that they've _talked_ about one morning before work, that Jensen needs to stick to, instead of tales about rising.

Aldis raises an eyebrow. "I was hoping he meant a real Greek god showed up, cause look, I love you man, but that ain't you."

Jared opens his mouth and then closes it, grumbling.

He has to agree with him—he isn't. He's friendly and happy, sure, but he's never been the kind to exude that confidence. Jared still thinks of himself as too tall and awkward sometimes, and for Jensen to view him in a different light feels weird.

"Was he naked? Maybe he was naked," Katie says to Aldis, going back to sucking on her straw. "You can tell us."

Jensen shrugs. "I was."

It's hard not to notice the very appreciative look Katie sends Jensen's way, staring at his ass through the wetsuit. She shrugs helplessly when Aldis shakes his head at her.

"Can we please stop talking about this?" Jared asks, pushing away the remnants of his burger. Conversation about imaginary sex and Jensen's bare ass turns off his appetite. Maybe not the bare ass but having to talk about it in front of _other people_ is just wrong.

It's probably covered in freckles. His gaze might have been focused elsewhere.

"I'm going to check out the penguins," Jensen says, standing up and bending to pick up his tray, giving Jared a good look at that very ass. "Lauren wanted to show me the new eggs that were transferred over. See you guys later."

They part ways then, with Jared left feeling uncomfortable and half-hard, thankful that the plastic table blocks the evidence.

It needs to stop, Jared reasons. Walking around half-hard all day? It's not fun when you spend most of it in a wetsuit.


	3. Chapter 3

"Taste and touch seem to be as sensitive as it is to humans, though personally, I think…" Jensen trails off. For the past half hour he's been poking at Jared's laptop, taking his first look at the internet. It's another fascinating device that he's happy to get his hands on, especially since it tells him just as much as Jared as anything else, given one look at Jared's browser history. His favorite foods, music, different humor sites. And different porn sites, by the looks of it.

Jensen is ready to list a few of said porn sites if it gets Jared to look up from his work, papers and books spread out on his desk.

Instead, he goes for a less embarrassing route, flicking a rolled up ball of paper at Jared's head. That gets him looking up, finally, better than the occasional grunt.

"Am I boring you?"

"No, you're not," Jared says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks tired, worn out. There's an urge in Jensen to reach out and touch him, see if he can try and alleviate some of the fatigue. "Sorry. I'm listening."

Jensen raises an eyebrow, moving the laptop aside to pick up the binder near Jared's arm, starting to flip through it. It's a collage of scribbles and photographs, a haphazard mix of enthusiasm towards cetacean life. Running his fingers over the taped up photos, Jensen can see pictures of himself, his _old_ self, with notes written in the margins. Going back to the first few days when he arrived, mostly unconscious and out of his mind with pain.

Until Jared was there, always watching.

"This is impressive," Jensen says, looking up over to Jared, noticing his hopeful expression. "Is this the book you're writing?"

"It's nothing," Jared says, so quick it's as though it's automatic, dismissive of the whole thing. Jensen doesn't understand why; obviously Jared has put a lot of thought into it, as jumbled as it might seem.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me."

"Yeah, well, it's my hobby." Jared straightens, rubbing his eyes. "Man. I'm gonna go crazy staring at this stuff any more tonight."

Leaning forward, Jensen tries to make sense of all the paperwork laid out. "This stuff is?"

"There's been an unusual trend of dolphin sightings off the coast these past few months. Your rescue seems to be the start of the pattern," Jared explains, getting up from his chair. He perks up suddenly, nodding at Jensen. "Hey, you think you might want to come out to one of the rescues one of these days? I'm sure the others would love to have our very own 'dolphin whisperer' present."

It's a bit of information that has Jensen tense up, because he isn't quite sure why there'd be an increase in dolphins near shore.

But for one thing, he's pretty sure he's not going back to the ocean any time soon. It's confirmed by the "No!" he immediately blurts out. "I can't—I don't want to."

The strange look Jared gives Jensen is unavoidable, but he tries to change the subject, saying, "I'm not whispering. I'm talking to them. Asking them and… well, you've seen it."

"Oh yeah," Jared says. He grips the back of the chair edge, still energetic. "Look. How's about we grab some dinner and you can tell me all you want about..." Jared pauses.

"Taste and touch?" Jensen says, filling in the gap.

"Uh." Jared clears his throat, a slight reddening of his cheeks. "How about hearing and vision instead? The other senses."

"Sure," Jensen says. "Then we can get back to those later."

Jared doesn't answer this time; at least, not vocally, though the way he clears his throat indicates _something_ , Jensen knows. He's becoming better at recognizing human tics each and every day.

 

*

 

For all the long hours in theater classes, lifeguard duty, and unpaid internships, Jared had never thought he would put them to use in a show that involved sequins and sea animals flying through the air.

In the past, he had expressed his wariness at the _Viva!_ dolphin show they'd set up at San Antonio. Dancers and gymnasts were on hand to participate in the high flying acrobatics as dance music pounded through the chamber-like space, an echoing noise that only resulted in Jared getting a healthy dislike of uplifting Celine Dion music and canary yellow bodysuits.

Thankfully, at six foot four, Jared was a little too tall and too heavy to leap from swings fifty feet above the tanks.

The stripped-down dolphin show the park is currently doing, _Blue Horizons_ , isn't as Vegas glam as _Viva!_ had been. The Pacific Whitesided dolphins had been the stars of the _Viva!_ show, the remaining Bottlenose dolphins sticking to the Dolphin Cove and feeding area.

This time, they get their spot in the limelight. There's still glitter and bodysuits—can't stop what works for the crowd—only now it's in shades of blues, greys, and whites, sweeping music echoing through the stadium. Oddly enough, it feels a little more in touch with the nature of the dolphins instead of the dazzling bold red hues of before.

Crazily, part of Jared wants to ask Jensen for his opinion on the different sets, but the headache involved might not be worth it.

Jared usually sticks to the simpler route, getting the dolphins to run through behaviors than emcee the shows. He'd get distracted running through scripted lines sometimes, preferring to have a one on one moment with the dolphin that he's training.

Sure, it's a one on one witnessed by hundreds of people, but the connection feels genuine, and the hokey dialogue sometimes puts a burn on that.

Except today, they need someone to fill in, because Alona is out sick with the flu. And, as luck—or stupidity—would have it, Jared is the natural choice. He's used to spur of the moment improvisation. Took the college class after all.

For a Friday afternoon, the audience is packed with families and teenagers, glittering sparkle of camera flashes as the music pounds.

Jared looks up the ladder to the high emcee platform on fake concrete plumes of water and ice, a good twenty or thirty feet above the deck. It's high, but he can deal with this. He's totally _fine_. Totally.

"How's the weather up there?" Mike says, clapping a hand on Jared's shoulder out of the blue.

Jared rolls his eyes, trying to cover up his jerk of surprise. "Ha, ha."

"You know, if you spent more time with the orcas, you'd be doing all the jumps and shit. Wouldn't have the height fear," Mike says. Petulantly, Jared wants to smack the Shamu costume head out Mike's hands.

"My specialty is _dolphins_ , Mike."

"Orcas are in the Dolphin family, dumbass. Even I know that."

He looks smug. Jared not sure how Mike can convey smugness since he's in a whale costume, ready to do his dorky whale shuffle for the kids, but Mike's just talented that way.

It's the anticipation that's making him screw up, Jared reasons. It's slowly sucking oxygen and IQ points from his brain.

Mike squints, trying to peer out from the back area into the bright sunlight and stands. "Hey, have you talked to Jensen for some tips? Guy looks cool as a cucumber out there."

"Out where?"

His question is answered when the voice comes up on the speakers, above the loud echo of rock music that blasts before the show. The crowd cheers and dies down, a clear voice that Jared recognizes, one with a hint of Texan drawl that's been patterned on his own.

"Good afternoon, everyone! My name is Jensen, and I'm going to be your host today. I hope you're wearing protective, uh, clothes, because the first few rows might get a little wet!"

A few dozen feet across, back stage and safely out of view, is Katie, perking up from standing behind the scenes. She mouthing words to Jared, _what's going on?_ He shrugs, eyes wide and unsure of what to say.

Keep calm, that's most important right now.

Jared mouths, _let him_ , and Katie waves her hands in assent.

"Oh my God," Jared says.

But it's muffled by the cheers of the crowd as Jensen begins the show narration, flawless in delivery. He's eloquent, charming, and has just the right amount of humor that keeps the crowd rapt. The Bottlenose dolphins seem to listen to his orders more than those given by their own trainers—their actions are flawlessly smooth.

And that, in a way, is the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Jensen has been throwing Jared off all this time, this uncomfortable strain that's putting Jared on his last nerve, unable to find rhythm or reason. It isn't like he can't _deal_ with him—he can, he really can, he just needs to find a way to push down that inevitable throb of want that rises in him, this need he feels to learn from him, but oh, to learn so much more than any talk about the ocean can achieve.

That's why this is impossible, because here Jensen is, throwing a wrench into things, the very center of what's shaking up Jared's life. What he can't control and what he wants desperately to get a handle on all of a sudden.

When there's a lull and the music blasts, each step that takes Jared towards Jensen is followed by pounding beats. It sets a thrum in his chest that gets his adrenaline going, hand gripping Jensen tight, barely letting him call his goodbyes. Applause follows their exit as they make their way downstairs to the tanks, rubber soled shoes slapping wet on the concrete.

Backstage behind the tanks for the show, the only light is a small hallway bulb above, and a wall of glass, bathing them both in a blue glow. Jared can feel anger radiating off him in waves, his jaw clenched tight and twitching.

"What the hell was that? What were you doing?" Jared asks him.

Jensen moves a hand out, as though he wants to reach out and touch, like physical contact will make everything better instantly. He fidgets instead. "I thought you'd want me to help you?"

"Yeah, but not like that—I didn't say do my job for me," Jared says, exhaling. He his hands ball into fists as he tries to keep his voice steady, trying to be as civilized as Jensen, his gaze unnaturally calm. Jared has a few inches on Jensen, but with Jensen's confident composure, not backing down, it's hard to feel that height gives him any advantage.

He's getting into Jensen's space now, breath hot and teeth bared, a flare of warmth firing up through Jared's chest, closer to Jensen. It's as though Jensen can pinpoint the exact pressure points that'll get Jared riled up, this low sound that he makes not a click or chatter, not any communication that Jared can translate.

It's a need, a feeling of wanting.

"You come here and talk to animals, and you act like it's so easy for you—and, and I don't know what to do. What game are you playing?" Jared asks, punctuates his question with a shove to Jensen's shoulder, almost relishing the glare he gets. _Good. Get him angry, get him talking_. "What do you need me for, then?"

"It's not easy for me either," Jensen says sharply. "I only woke up human a few days ago! I'm trying to do my best."

"I _know_ ," Jared snaps, his tone bitter. He pulls back from Jensen, moves to brace an arm against the glass. Trying to ignore the urge to look at Jensen, seeing the taught muscles of Jensen's broad shoulders, bold lines of blue and white streaking down his sides, highlighting his slim waist.

"Do you really understand?" Jensen says abruptly.

When Jared takes a step back, he can see Jensen's reflection in the glass, a ghostly face of blue.

"I'm weaker. Slower. I can't move the way I used to, I can't _breathe_ the way I used to, and every single morning, I wake up after sleeping and dreaming of…" Jensen sucks in a breath, a pause that drags on forever. Jared feels annoyed at how fast his heart is hammering, how he feels himself sweat under the sheen of water still covering his body.

Trying to calm down isn't working.

"And every time I look at you…" Jensen trails off, roughshod in his voice, mouth wet, open. Jensen is no longer in the soft white light of the hallway, but the blue light of the tanks. He's moving closer to Jared, looking irritated and vulnerable, skin still wet and body shaking with anger.

"What?" Jared can feel himself saying, pulse thrumming in his ears, fuzzy echo of shoes on concrete as Jensen moves closer.

There's this hitch of noise, a low click, as Jensen surges forward, "All my body wants to do is _react_."

That's when he shoves against Jared, presses up and in. Eyes all wide, searching Jared's face, licking his lips, the pressure hot and dizzying. He murmurs, "I can't control it."

His eyes are too green and his mouth is too close.

Before Jared knows it, they're kissing each other, mouths hungry and hands searching for grip. It starts out fast and fumbling, this collision of lips, teeth clacking and bodies pressed against each other, hips slotting up just right.

It doesn't feel that as weird as Jared thinks it would. What it does feel is right, like Jensen's mouth was _made_ for this, his kisses slow and achingly wonderful. It feels right, like everything locking into place. _This_ is why Jensen's hands are shaped just so, to fit against Jared, to wrap around his arms, his biceps, pulling him closer. _This_ is what Jensen's mouth was made for, lips pink and puffy, Jared's hand cupping his face and thumbing his cheekbones.

Jensen leans into Jared's touch, lifting his head to press up into Jared's space, to rub against the slow friction of Jared's wetsuit.

The outfit is tight enough to leave little to the imagination, and Jensen groans, as though the thought comes to him at the same time: _off_.

Jared tears a hand away from Jensen's hair, moving to cup the back of his neck. The better to pull him closer, because Jared wants, no, _needs_ to taste the saltiness of Jensen's mouth.

And the better to start tugging at the wetsuit zipper.

Zipper finally caught, Jared drags it down. His hand moves to the small of Jensen's back, fingertips pressing deep, brushing smooth, raised skin. It's a scar, soft like of tissue that Jared is familiar with on a _different_ body.

The smallest noises are coming out of Jensen now, needy and impatient, like he's had a taste and can't get enough, wanting more.

It's a first taste, the smooth line under Jared's fingers like a white hot reminder of reality.

How not right this is, because this cannot happen. Not now, not with _Jensen_.

He grunts, little puffs of breath against Jensen's lips, moan low and guttural as he pushes away.

"I can't—I'm sorry," Jared gasps, but Jensen keeps his hands on him, wanting that touch. Lingering, he jerks his head up to look at Jared, but it's not enough.

It's not enough to prevent Jared from running away.

 

*

 

The trick to a human body is how it manages to showcase exactly every embarrassing fault, which is guaranteed to occur at the worst possible moment. It's accident-prone, it's dry and clumsy, surging with urges and hormones that feel as though it will never be satisfied. Whenever Jared is around, the feeling is magnified, concentrated into this breathless and hyperactive _need_ to please and entertain rather than claim and take.

It makes Jensen want to court Jared the old-fashioned way. Whatever that means.

Kissing a human turns out to be less weird than Jensen thought it would be. He's never kissed anyone before, never thought about the repercussions, that he can't think clearly, that his body, god, this _body_.

It's a swipe of Jared's tongue that undoes him, his warmth and energy and everything distinctly _his_ , his scent lingering on Jensen's mouth and skin. The taste of Jared stays with Jensen for a few minutes afterwards as he tries to collect himself, the fuzzy echo of music dissipating behind him as he moves through the hallway. He's dazed, unable to try to look out for himself let alone look out for _Jared_.

He wants more of Jared's mouth, his hands, his cock, everything. He wants it, now, definitely wants _him_ , wants to explore his very human body and learn just what spots to press and lick and touch. But with Jared running away, and the look on his face as he left, that's—that's something Jensen doesn't want. What he needs is time to explain himself, and then Jared will understand. He'll see.

Jensen always gets what he wants. He just needs to narrow his focus.

The only thing Jensen doesn't get, though, is a moment of peace, because that's when the nearby janitor's closet door opens and a mop whizzes by his nose, clattering to the floor.

"Shit!" Jensen shouts.

Chad steps out of the closet, fumbling to prop up the mops, brooms, bottles and other items threatening to tumble out. His eyes are wide, like a fish in a shark's line of sight, a brief moment of terror before he relaxes when he sees that it's Jensen.

Oddly enough, Jensen feels a little annoyed that he doesn't have Chad cowering still, but there are more pressing matters to deal with, such as Chad stepping out of a closet.

"What are you doing here?" Chad asks, closing the door behind him. "And why are you wearing that outfit? You look ridiculous."

"I could ask you the same thing!" Jensen snaps, wiping his face. Breathes in and out and tries to push past the afterglow that has him honestly _mooning_ over a kiss. And he hasn't even had sex with Jared yet. That line of thinking does nothing to calm him down. "I finished doing the dolphin show. What were you doing in there?"

Chad opens and closes his mouth, snapping it shut before blurting out the truth. Hesitating, he lies, "Um, cleaning?"

"'Cleaning'," Jensen repeats, his voice coming out ragged and short, and he can feel that burst of adrenaline leaving him. It makes him whine low in his throat, leaning back against the nearest wall, this impatient, needy shimmy of his hips and waist.

"You smell like sex for real this time. What were _you_ doing?" Chad says.

"Uhhh," Jensen stammers.

Actually, it's a credit to his brain that he can manage to translate anything into human right now, because in reality, all he wants to do is moan.

So he does, for another second, which is all the translation that Chad needs. His friend nods, eyes narrowing, and sums it up, saying, "Did you mount him?"

"No, Chad." Jensen takes a breath and straightens up, mumbling. "He ran away."

"Oh, that bites."

"Tell me about it," Jensen says, not even bothering to let Chad speak, because he can't take any jokes or any fun at his expense right now because he's hard and needy and it sucks.

"He ran, and what am I going to do? He's angry, and he's so… he gets all riled up, and I don't want to drive him away and—I don't know how to do this."

By now, Chad's rubbing his chin, blond stubble growing in. "Think I got a way to take your mind off of things. The party's tonight, remember?"

"Party?" Jensen's eyes widen. "What party?"

"Well, that's up to you to find out," Chad says, looking pleased as hell when he smiles, edging back to the closet. "It's all in the plan, dude. Go after Jared now. I bet he's waiting in the parking lot for you. I mean, he is your ride back and he's not gonna leave you high and dry. I'll meet you guys back at Jared's house."

With that, he's back in the closet and Jensen's dick has finally managed to go soft at the thought of the tense ride back to the house.

 

*

 

Jared knows that hiding out in the Penguin Encounter exhibit is by no means the best plan for avoiding Jensen. He uses the excuse of checking on the exhibit's residents. Coincidentally, he may be trying to will away the biggest hard-on he's had in recent memory. Jared would never get over the memory (or the thought that these penguins would take one look and _know what he did_ , especially the Southern Rockhopper penguin out on that rock cropping).

However, staying later than normal and hiding out only results in being the last to leave and it turns out that Jensen doesn't have a ride home.

Jared doesn't need to hear him ask; once Jensen walked into the habitat, the knowledge hit Jared. The knowledge that there's _more_ of this, and he's a grown man sulking in an animal exhibit.

Jensen jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I need a ride. If that's—if that's okay."

"Did you—" Jared gestures with a hand, this awkward space between them. Right in the middle of a damn penguin exhibit, dozens of pairs of tiny eyes looking at them both. "I was checking up on the birds."

"Right," Jensen says. He cocks his head towards the penguins and puffins. "I've never seen you work with them before."

"Maybe because I had my hands full before!" Jared says abruptly, feeling a twinge of guilt when he moves past Jensen to the employee area.

"With me," Jensen says under his breath.

*

Any plans Jared had for his night at home researching, avoiding, and trying not to be completely awkward around Jensen is ruined once he reaches his house and is unable to park. Which is due to the myriad of cars and SUVs parked out on the curb and driveway. The front yard and house are teeming with people, loud music blasting as they carry on conversations over cans of beer and cups of whatever else they're drinking.

Jared remembers that all the other trainers had left work earlier, claiming they were busy when he asked them why. Judging by the familiar cars in the driveway, it looks like they _did_ have somewhere to go.

Jared looks at Jensen, getting a wide-eyed stare in return. "Do you know something about this?"

Getting out of the truck, Jensen shrugs, hands in his pockets. "Chad?"

Jared frowns at the answer as he and Jensen start to navigate through the crowd and into the house.

Inside of the house the place is alive with even louder music, and a good share of people from the park. For the most part, Jared doesn't recognize many of them. Some are cheery, some are rapt in their own conversations, barely acknowledging Jared's awkward, tight smile as he moves past them.

However, he _does_ recognize the people sitting around Chad in the living room—replace the SeaWorld gift shop staff shirts with party clothes and you have Chad's co-workers: Sophia, Danneel, Hilarie, James and the rest, all laughing at one of Chad's stories.

Jensen lets out a high pitched whistle near Jared's ear, making him wince and jump.

He's not the only one; Chad jumps to attention, excusing himself to come over. He's in loud Hawaiian swim trunks and aviator shades and absolutely nothing else.

"Hey," Chad says.

This time it's Jensen who looks pissed off. "'Hey'?"

Chad slings his arms around the two of them, alcohol on his breath making Jared wonder if he's doing it out of friendship or because he needs actual bodily support. "Welcome, my friends. Thought you forgot about the party!"

" _Party_?" Jensen asks, incredulously.

"You didn't say anything about a party! And not in my—in the house I'm supposed to be taking care of!" Jared exclaims. He swears he just heard glass breaking, wincing at the noise. It could be his heart pounding, because he still has Jensen by his elbow, looking at the crowd curiously.

"Yeah, uh, I think I'll go get a drink. Looks like you two need some time alone!" Chad says, all spry as he maneuvers into the crowd. "You'll thank me later!"

Right, because now that Chad has left, Jared is alone with Jensen.

Even though his house is filled to the brim with people, with Jensen standing nearby, Jared feels like the whole world could fall away. Because what happened back at the park, that isn't real. It can't be. It's a freak accident, a rush of adrenaline, whatever it is, Jared will deny it.

Jensen jerks his head in the direction of the backyard, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. "Do you want to go outside?"

"Yeah," Jared manages to say, bristling when some strangers knock past him, probably getting more drinks. Oh man. He really hopes there's not like a keg in the kitchen. Cleaning that up is going to be a nightmare. "That sounds great."

Walking out onto the patio feels more like coming up from air, no longer facing the crushing pressure of people. Outside the backyard is lit with strands of lights crossing above the pool, sending shimmering reflections on the surface. The group of people outside talk and laugh quietly, mostly couples enthralled in each other's company.

It's still too crowded for Jared's tastes, so he finds shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to talk.

Again, Jensen takes initiative. That initiative being how he starts to strip his clothes, faster than before, like he's used to the breadth of his shoulders and reach of his arms, settling into this new body.

"Hold on a second," Jared starts to stay, grabbing for him, looking around. "No stripping in public, remember?"

"I want to try out the pool," Jensen says, and that's how two minutes later he's standing on the diving board, stripped down to his boxers.

Jensen is all smooth, lean muscle. He'd have the perfect swimmer's build save for the fact that his shoulders aren't wide, but his waist is narrow enough for Jared to imagine how Jensen would fit perfectly between his thighs.

Jensen hesitates for a moment, testing the bounce of the board before he's doing a backwards flip into the pool, twisting at the end of it to hit the water in a belly flop, limbs akimbo.

Turns out not all of Jensen's sleek movements remain intact.

He's wincing though, which makes Jared automatically dash over, resting on his haunches near the edge of the pool. "Jensen, you all right?"

"I'm good, I'm good," Jensen says, looking every other way but Jared's face. Trying his best to look nonchalant, though Jared knows he must feel at least a little embarrassed and probably stinging from the hard slap of the water. He's so different from his usual cocky show-off self that Jared can't help but laugh.

"You think this is funny?" Jensen grumps. "How your kind is able to dive from those tall heights without breaking something, I'll never know."

"It's cool, dude. You're not Michael Phelps," Jared is able to get out between giggles, laughing even more when Jensen gets that starry look in his eyes.

"Neither are you," Jensen says, paddling back. "The water's fine."

"Nah, I'm good."

"I didn't say you had a _choice_ ," Jensen says, edge of mischief to his voice as he lurches up, trying to latch on to Jared. It's rushed and clumsy, getting a kneecap, his wrist, enough momentum to send Jared crashing into the pool, clothes and all.

The sudden shock and cold of the water takes a second or two to recover from, wiping his hair back, water stinging his eyes and nose. But it's a welcomed shock to the system, even if he can hear gasps of surprise and laughter from the pool deck—to everyone else, it's a prank, but to him, it's a place that's familiar and comforting. For a moment, anyway, because where he'd usually swim a few laps to take his mind off things, now a few strokes take him to Jensen's side, the person at the center of his inner meltdown.

It's not fair that he should feel so at home and so fucking screwed at the same time, because here Jensen is in his element, looking pleased and just as comfortable as Jared is, all clumsiness melting away.

Jared has become suddenly, almost painfully aware at how close they are, light playing along the angles of Jensen's face and bare shoulders. The water is up to mid shoulder, temperature just a shade warmer than Jared is used to in comparison to the cooler waters of the park. They're almost alone. Hell, they pretty much _are_ alone, because none of the partygoers are that nearby, none of them care to notice what's going on between Jared and Jensen.

Jared clears his throat, treading water. "I'm sorry for freaking out at you earlier."

He isn't exactly sorry, because well, he's got a valid reason to be freaked out. Making out with someone that's actually not human is pretty high on the list of reasons to be freaked out. And then there's that tinge of, well, if he wants to put a finger on it, he can chalk it up to jealousy. Barely two weeks and already Jensen's doing well for himself, and isn't that messed up, that Jared can't be happy for him?

Or that Jared _can_ be, but it's a little hard to concentrate on his own work when he's got someone like Jensen around, looking the way he looks and acting the way he does.

"I liked kissing you," Jensen says bluntly, then he scowls, annoyed with himself. "Sorry, I just—I really like you, Jared. I'm not used to this. It's hard for me to control myself in this body."

Ending this before it starts feels like the safest and best option, but he can feel himself waver, unable to say it. The party noises are drowned out, now, this easy back and forth that's comfortable, for once, not completely awkward. Because it's only them now.

"Yeah, I can see that. But you can't just like… jump on me. I still want you to respect me in the morning," Jared jokes, grimacing at the sound of it.

Jensen frowns. "Humans don't respect each other after they've had sex?"

" _Whoa_ , whoa. Hold up. Jumping the gun there, buddy!" Jared says, his voice breaking. He's this close to swallowing a mouthful of water. "No sex!"

"But that's what you do, right? To be close with one another," Jensen says, slowly, as though explaining it to Jared. He can feel himself bristling at how easy Jensen makes it sound.

"Yeah, that's what everyone does. It's natural, but I like to get to know someone first. Before. Going to that place." That sounds even lamer speaking it than thinking it.

"Oh," Jensen says, his voice low, and then he perks up. "Do you want me to court you?"

Jared is suddenly reminded of old traditions, prim and proper men and ladies, a weird image as he's trying to keep afloat. Ignoring the crease of worry between Jensen's brows, Jared says, "Sort of. You have to know this is weird, all right?"

"Of course it's weird. I'm not an idiot."

"Yeah, but—" Jared sighs. "It's not—it's not like. Here. Let's see if I can explain. I read this myth the other night that might sound familiar. In my research, trying to figure out—well, what happened to you, I came across this thing from Brazil."

Jensen hums in interest and Jared tries not to stare at the soft wetness of his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Some South Americans believe in the _Encantado_ myth. It means 'enchanted one.' It's about dolphins that have the ability to turn into humans. They come onto shore and romance townspeople," Jared murmurs, feeling his breath hitch as Jensen moves closer.

"They don't let up. They enchant and haunt the ones they want to be with. They're said to kidnap those they fall in love with to bring them back to the _Encante_. Their underwater paradise."

Closing his eyes, Jared can feel the puff of Jensen's breath, the steady beat of his chest, a hand coming up to wrap around Jensen's bicep. It's easy to stay like this, to get lost in the closeness of Jensen's body and the softness of his voice. It's as though the feeling he gets out of training and being close to the dolphins is infused in this, only the purest thoughts and _fuck_ , when it comes down to it? He's hard and aching for Jensen's mouth, like having a taste of it again will explain everything he's always wanted to know about the ocean.

The water weaves and bobs, eyelevel changing before Jared uses the momentum to lean forward, lips brushing Jensen's in a soft kiss.

This time, it tastes sweet.

It's chaste and wet, cut short when Jensen's pulling back and looking up, confused. "Oh, shit."

Jared's about to ask why he's stopped but that when the background noise comes into prominence again, the world back in focus and it's when he can hear the screams.

"There's a walrus in the hot tub!"

 

*

 

Ten minutes later the party is mostly cleared out, the stragglers whispering about some "dumb" or "kick ass" prank, depending on who's doing the talking. The refuse left in their wake leaves the house looking like a hurricane blew through: cups, paper plates, crushed chips and other strange objects that remind Jensen of the audience stands after a dolphin show, right before the stadium cleanup. Only this time the show ends with a full grown male walrus sitting in the hot tub connected to the pool, _scowling_ at Jensen and Jared.

Jensen lets out a low whistle, trying to keep his focus on the sight in front of him and not how red Jared's face is getting. "Chad?"

'Who else?' Chad growls. 'They thought I pranked them. The girls went to change for the tub, they left for a minute and I got in and then it—it just happened, okay, I didn't mean to change back! Totally blew my fucking night.'

The hard-on in Jensen's boxers reminds him that it isn't only Chad's night that's been blown. Nearly making a fool of himself belly-flopping into the pool, yeah, that blows. But he'd been so _close_ and his second chance at getting Jared—at getting to _fuck_ Jared, body aching for it—is gone. The worst thing isn't the stinging pain of his belly or the wilting hard-on. It's how Chad cockblocked him.

Jensen frowns. "Did you break the hot tub?"

' _No_.' Chad sounds offended. 'I knew it, Jensen. You think all walruses are fat.'

Meanwhile, Jared is standing there flabbergasted and _really_ red in the face. He's panicking, pushing his wet bangs off his forehead, all the coy and shyness of the moment before is gone.

Worry doesn't look good on Jared, Jensen thinks. He wants nothing more than to make Jared happy, and yet here they are, intruding and possibly wrecking the house Jared's watching over. Jensen is about to apologize when Jared's posture straightens, as though he's pushing down the panic and anger to clear his thoughts.

Taking control of the situation, Jared moves closer to the edge of the hot tub. "Can you coax him out? Let's try doing that rather than lifting."

"Chad hasn't responded well to authority in the past," Jensen says, folding his arms as Chad does a little shuffle towards the steps leading out of the tub.

'Yeah, tell him about the time where I helped you bail on royal guards and nearly got half my ass chewed out by the fuckin' _shark patrol_. Tell him about that!'

"Those sharks can suck my dick," Jensen snaps, adding, "Long story," when Jared gives him a look of surprise.

It's then that the water starts bubbling and foaming, Jared calling, "Chad, did you hit the button?"

But it's not the hot tub jets. It's magic, the same swirls and sparks of light that Jensen vaguely remembers, confirmed when Chad steps out of the pool, a wet, shivering human.

The bright Hawaiian trunks Chad had on have stretched out so far that they pool around his ankles, right as he flexes his toes and fingers like he's getting used to being human again.

"Whoa. Thought I was back for a minute." Chad snatches up the loose swim trunks before he good-naturedly claps Jared on the shoulder. "Thanks for having my back. Sorry about the tub."

Chad passes by Jensen, leaning in close and sarcastically whispering, "Your majesty." The he heads back into the house like nothing happened.

 

 

*

 

Battening down the hatches _against_ the attractions of a fascinating, handsome man seems like going against his better judgment for Jared.

But there's never been a case—not that Jared knows of—of an interested potential boyfriend that used to be, well, not human. There are tales of mermaids, selkies, sirens, and the _Encantado_ , the kind of magic Jared spent many an afternoon reading about when he was little—and many a recent night trying to research—whenever he wanted to get his hands on anything that could explain the magical pull of the ocean. And in all these tales, the magical beings would lure men to the ocean's depths, or in some cases, to their _deaths_. So far, it seems like Jensen has the purest of intentions.

Pure, to an extent, that is. Because Jensen has a tendency to stare, his gaze lingering as though he's sizing Jared up for the taking.

It's a slow, torturous tease because they're living together and sharing the same space, and _Jared_ has to be the one teaching Jensen about the smallest things:

What to wear—and watch Jensen strip quickly before Jared can even turn around and look away discreetly.

How to eat—feeling Jensen's thumb rub slow, small circles on the back of Jared's hand as he shows him how to hold a fork and knife properly.

When to shave—cupping Jensen's jaw with his palm when he's nicked himself too many times, swiping a finger under Jensen's cheekbone and feeling his trusting gaze the entire time.

It's too close, enough so that it becomes hard to deny when Jared is shucking down his jeans and boxers in the bathroom, grabbing his cock and pumping quickly, Jensen's face readily coming to mind.

And now, after what happened, Jared knows it's being _too_ close, because he knows the looks Jensen gives him after those bathroom sessions have another edge to them—not curiosity, but _knowing_ , knowing what he's doing later on, that he's jerking off, and that Jensen has heard all of it. And now, Jared knows Jensen wants the same thing.

It's not going to eat him up inside. It's just _not_.

It'll eat up his sanity, though, so that's why the sudden twang of the metal locker door shutting nearby has him on edge, jumping at the noise.

Jared braces an arm against the small door frame, shaking his head. "Warn a guy, would you?"

"Great party the other night," Aldis says, zipping up his wetsuit and moving to sit down on the low bench. "When Chad told us you were doing something, I thought he was lying! No way you'd pull that. How'd you get that walrus at the end? Was it animatronic or something? Now _that's_ how you end a party!"

"I guess," Jared says distractedly, the collar of his wetsuit suddenly feeling too hot and tight. He spins around, plasters on a smile and shrugs. "I know people who know people?"

Yeah, he's real great at lying his ass off. Once Aldis raises an eyebrow, Jared goes on to mumble about special effects houses when the room starts filling up slowly, trainers and workers trickling in.

"What's up?" Brock says enthusiastically, giving Jared a high five. "That party was a blast!"

"Glad you had fun," Jared responds automatically, biting back the urge to say, _because I spent most of it trying to keep a raging hard-on in check_. Instead, he says, "You still need to check up on Spirit today, Brock. She's not being responsive to your commands. It could be that she's sick."

"Should've named her 'Complacent'," Brock grumbles.

"Brock, check on her. I can't be responsible for everyone and everything," Jared snaps, harsher than he intends it to be. Brock's eyebrows shoot up and there's this moment of uneasiness that descends as they get dressed for the day.

The other trainers are being careful around Jared, like they know he's in some kind of mood—and that's the thing, he isn't really, he just needs to get his head back into his routine of working and researching again.

Mostly because he'd rather do research of other parts of Jensen's anatomy but that's not the point.

Then again, the point could just be that Jared's screwed, scent of dead fish hitting his nostrils as he makes his way to food prep. _Perfect_.

 

*

 

"I don't understand humans, Jeff," Jensen says, legs pulled up and his arms bracing his knees as he stares at the thick glass wall of the orca tank. The water is deep blue, the pale dark blur of "Winchester" or rather of his friend Jeffrey behind the glass, calling back to him through the water.

Understanding animal speech in this body takes getting used to, but Jensen's more than willing to accept the challenge. It's a voice without sound at all, an echo of a voice in Jensen's brain, sounding fuzzy and unintelligible at first until he concentrates. Sorts out the words and then it's clear, it's talking, telling, _admonishing_ —

'So what, he didn't fall all over you at the first chance? You might be a prince, but that doesn't mean you're always going to have everything handed over to you. Tough luck,' Jeff says, his gruff rumble comforting. He turns in the tank, peering out at Jensen with one eye. 'They're not like us, you know.'

"Yeah, I've figured that out," Jensen says. "Doesn't help that Jared thinks I'm some kind of weirdo."

'Well, you are. Walkin' around on those funny legs. I'd say you're a weirdo.'

A plume of air shoots up from Jeff, the spray of water cold and refreshing against Jensen's face and legs. Batting at the lanyard of his guest credential, Jeff starts talking again, slowly swimming back and forth across the wide berth of the tank. 'You know how they are—they need to be taught just as much as they try to teach us.'

Jensen sighs. "But I don't have the _time_ to teach him, that's the problem."

He shuts up and forces a smile, seeing Mike coming down the stairs to the stadium, this awkward shuffle of costumed feet as he hops down the last few steps. Holding the fuzzy killer whale mascot head on his hip, Mike looks to Jensen and the tank, confused.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Je—uh, just Winchester," Jensen replies, getting to his feet. For a second he feels a pang of guilt, like he's been caught. But then reason comes in, as Mike as no idea what he is, or what's going on. "Talking to him, that's all."

Mike's smiling at him now, but Jensen recognizes the feeling behind it—it's not meeting his eyes and it's strained, an _okay, weird_ feeling behind it, before Mike's nodding to the tank. "Pretty one-sided conversation though."

"Oh, he's talking back. You're just not listening correctly."

Jensen can hear Jeff sighing in the background. 'Great, here we go…'

"Really, you think so?" Mike asks, and the suspicious demeanor drops. "Because I always thought the theories about interspecies communication have merit to them, you know?"

Jensen nods carefully. "They do."

"And since I try to go Method here, it's better to communicate and learn, try to be _one_ with the orca. We talk all the time," Mike says enthusiastically.

'Yeah. All the time. Ask him when was the last time he gave me some fish! Go ahead!' Jeff growls. 'Ask him!'

Jensen thinks it's a testament to Jeff's patience that he hasn't dumped a few hundred gallons of water on Mike with one wave of his tail over the years. Especially since if Jensen had to hear this kind of adulation on a daily basis, he might go insane.

"…I even thought about trying out for the _Moby Dick_ at the dinner theater playhouse in town, but that's so beneath me, you know?" Mike says, just as Jensen can spy a welcome and handsome face entering the stadium.

It's Jared, and his eyes dart away from them so that he's bowing his head down and plowing across the water-clogged walkway, long legs and arms snug in the black and blue wetsuit that leaves little to the imagination, every muscle and curve outlined. There's a bucket that's no doubt heavy with fish in one of his hands, but at the speed he's going, it looks like it weighs nothing at all. He's hightailing past them, past _Jensen_.

"Jared!" Jensen excuses himself from Mike and rushes over, standing in front of Jared to stop him from plowing ahead any further.

"I've got to go to the sea lions. Food," Jared says, waving the bucket, sounds of fish squishy and wet. "Don't have time to talk right now."

"Then make time," Jensen says playfully. It's enough to send Jared back a step, his shoulders slouching as the tension dissipates, and now it's just the two of them—no charged moments, no kissing, just _talking_ , like they need to do.

Jensen lowers his voice, "I don't want to scare you away. Even though I—"

"Really want to fuck me?" Jared supplies.

"Well, when you put it that way," Jensen sighs. Jared is dry and his hair is a little fluffy, tangles that Jensen wishes he could reach out and straighten. Every urge in his body towards Jared is to touch; it's what dolphins do, and what _he_ wants to do. It's how they live and communicate.

Only he's not one of them now. And neither is Jared.

"I'll move out then," Jensen says. "I don't want to be any more of a distraction to you."

"What?" Something twists in Jensen's belly to see the look Jared gives him, confused and crushed all at once. "You don't have to—"

"No, I really do," Jensen breaks in. "I'll be fine. I think I know where to go. And we can still talk and… do all that, without it being weird all the time."

Taking this in, Jared starts to nod slowly, and there it is, what Jensen's desperately missed and needs to see: a smile, a real genuine one. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. We can take it slow. See how it goes."

This would be the point where Chad would helpfully suggest he add "in my pants," but Jensen only smiles in return. It's infectious, this smiling thing, the shifts and quirks of his face sliding wonderfully into place.

It's a smile that lasts until he asks, "So, sea lions?" and Jared nods.

"Want to help?"

'Did he just say sea lions?' Jeff interrupts, powerful strokes of his tail sending water lapping up against the walls, overflowing to drench their calves and feet. 'He's going to go talk to the lunchables over you! What kind of human is that, Jensen?'

Jensen eyes the tank. 'Shut up, Jeff.'

Jared eyes their exchange with mild interest. "Did he just say something to you?"

"Yeah, he wanted to know about the luncha…" Jensen trails off. Instinctively, he rolls his shoulders, this embarrassed shrug. "Um, he calls the sea lions 'lunchables.' It's a long story."

Jared smiles. "I've got time."

 

*

 

It's a good morning. They talk, about Jeff, the sea lions, whether or not Mike's ready for dinner theater. Jared gets in the tank and greets the visitors at the Cove, his mood lifting as he grins and rattles off facts and deals with questions from the visitors, some personal ("Do you smell like fish all the time?") and some strictly concerning the dolphins ("Do they drink water?"). When he answers, Jared's whole face lights up, grinning from ear to ear.

The downside to moving out turns out to be that he's relying on his backup plan, and that backup plan consists of Chad.

He says goodbye to Jared around lunchtime, all set to swing by the gift shop and relay Chad the news about him moving out.

Jared bites his lip as he bobs in the water. He pushes his hair back, saying, "You'll swing by later, right?"

"Yeah," Jensen says, craning his head to look up over Jared's shoulder. In the distance, Jim stands in the doorway to the employee quarters, arms folded and anger on his face. He nods to Jensen, glance furtive and urgent. "Later."

Jensen ambles over to where Jim's standing, offering a warm smile that soon fades as he approaches, Jim glaring at him.

"Mornin' your majesty," Jim says, grabbing him by the shoulder and tugging him towards the hallway.

It's instinct that has Jensen jerking away, scrambling to come up with some cover-up, playing dumb might work, but—

"Oh, don't start, boy. I know about you," Jim says. "You're treading water, Jensen. You shouldn't have done it in the first place."

"What are you talking about?" Jensen asks, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice.

"You know what," Jim says, scanning the area. He's standing a little too close, bill of his cap down and covering his whisper as he says, "The spell that damn turtle put on you and your 'cousin'."

Jensen swallows. "Misha wasn't—"

"Let's talk about this elsewhere," Jim interrupts. The last thing Jensen wants is to follow this guy, because _bad_ , bad things can happen now. His secret's out, and who's to say Jim won't tell it to the nearest human, or those reporters, like on the television—

The fourth door down from the Assistant Supervisor's office is where they end up, the janitor's closet. Jim applies pressure on the right side panel, behind a bucket and some grimy mops.

And then the back wall of the janitor's closet slides open into what looks like an _apartment_.

Taking a step in, Jensen notices that the space looks like a room sealed away behind the park offices, old storage and employee lounges. Sections of the walls and furniture look years, maybe decades old, with boxy wooden surfaces, lava lamps, and plastic-covered couches.

Chad is sitting on one of these covered couch taking drinking a beer and watching _Flipper_ on a surprisingly nice flat-screen TV.

Jensen doesn't get a chance to question him, because Jim cuffs him on the back of the head, telling him to close his mouth and pay attention.

"Oww!" Jensen winces. "Sorry."

"I used to be like you," Jim says. "Until I transitioned and decided to stay on land."

"You what?" Jensen asks. It's surprising, but it makes sense at the same time, pieces slotting into place. He can feel himself getting breathless, a million questions coming to him at once. "Wait, were you sent here to watch over me?"

Jim scowls at him. Or, well, scowls _more_ at him. "Hell no, that's your buddy over there's job. But I took one look at the two of you and I knew there was something up. Made sure the paperwork cleared, can never trust a turtle to do all the work. I kept an eye on you both until I could figure out what you were up to."

"Jared," Jensen says softly. "I told him I was going to move out."

Apparently it's worthy enough for Chad to take a listen, since the TV goes on pause, Flipper hanging in midair.

"Awesome! Roomies!" Chad says putting his fist in the air. "C'mon, let's bump fists. It's fun."

Jensen isn't really sure what to do with that.

"Things between Jared and me are awkward right now," Jensen explains, sitting down on a one of the couches.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you're in love, you stupid ass," Jim says when they're all settled in the sitting area. "You know, you gotta tell Jared who you are. The whole shebang."

Jensen laughs a little, shakily. "You think he'll understand?"

"Won't know until you try," Jim points out.

The plastic slides and sticks against Jensen, this uneasy surface discomforting to him at first; but he sinks in, and tries to sort out his thoughts.

It's actually a little comforting to speak to someone who isn't Chad about the whole thing, because as much as Chad will lay out his own opinions to Jensen, it's not the outside perspective he thinks might benefit him. When it comes down to it, Jensen is still higher up on the hierarchical chain, and Chad will still be his attendant.

Jim, however, is none of those things. He won't defer to Jensen just because of the royal status he holds.

"You can stay here for now. The couches are all pull-outs. Just don't pester me when I'm sleeping."

"You don't mind sleeping?" Jensen asks. "I'm sorry to pry, but doesn't it feel wrong, going fully unconscious like that?"

"You get used to it," Jim says, leaning back into the couch, faint crackle of plastic. "Now, first rule is no going around telling people about this secret apartment, you got it? Second, I don't care that you're the crown prince of the seven seas—"

"Actually I'm—"

"Boy, don't you interrupt me." Jim side-eyes Chad for a long moment and Chad reluctantly takes his feet off the coffee table. "Now, house rules are that everyone recycles. Chad'll explain how to sort out what recyclables go where. Any questions?"

There's a hundred that come to mind, easy, but he waits too long and Jim nods, saying, "Great. This episode of _Flipper_ is my favorite."

 

*

 

With Jensen moving out, Jared is able to breathe a little easier in the house. No longer would he have to panic after finding Jensen wandering around naked early in the morning. There's enough space between them to not worry about getting up in each other's faces, or any pent-up frustrations starting to build. Jared doesn't have to worry about what Jensen is wearing or what he's eating, because he's a grown ma—well, he's a grown adult, and Jared should not have to mind him all the time.

Jensen says he's staying with Chad now, and Jared doesn't ask him where exactly that would be. Maybe he should, but Jensen is always first to arrive and last to leave at the park, a spectacle of endless enthusiasm and serious concern that's shaking up Jared's work experience. It isn't like he's been bored, exactly, with his work, but with Jensen being here, it's refreshing.

It makes more sense to invite Jensen over to the house like he's a coworker and all Jared wants is to hang out with him, just like having a buddy around. Sure, having a private space to talk is the main excuse, seeing as Jensen gets all animated and excited, with hand gestures no less when talking about a world no human has ever seen nor properly understood. Jared doesn't want to rein him in and have him feel awkward at the park or around other trainers.

When they aren't talking about dolphin behavior, they're talking about human behavior, and sometimes these conversations take turns for the philosophical, with Jensen always wanting to know why people behave the way they do. More often than not, Jensen comes out looking more disappointed than before he went in, thinking too many resolutions involved discussions of violence and humanity's technological advancements and the fall out to the ocean world.

So when there's a downer on the tail end of a conversation like that, Jared will do the next best thing he knows: pop in a DVD.

Sometimes the tactic works and sometimes it doesn't. Today, it isn't working so well: _The Day of the Dolphin_ is on and the sight of George C. Scott in a summer suit trying to give commands to a dolphin while on one knee on the boat prow has Jensen staring blankly at the television.

Jared has the film on DVD along with many other sea related stories—there's the Disney staples: _The Little Mermaid_ and _Finding Nemo_. Then the family films like _Flipper_ and _Zeus and Roxanne_. And the more adult fare, like _Splash_ and _The Big Blue_. He even has all of the _Free Willy_ movies, courtesy of Mike, who bought them for Jared as a joke. Which also included the porn rip-off: _Free His Willy_.

Jared is totally aware that his extensive collection of sea-related movies is ridiculous as a whole, especially since the films always seem to get the simplest of logistics or physics completely _fucked_ , but since most of the films have _talking animals_ , it's not like he can praise them for accuracy.

At least, not until recently, that is.

Jensen stretches, taking over as much of the couch as possible. His bare feet push hard against the meat of Jared's thigh, shoving up until Jared wriggles a little, trying to contend with a pushy Jensen as he eats the last slice of pizza. Learning to use his body and limbs is a slow going process and it's like Jensen stretches it out even further, a bend of his wrists or a pull of his strong, freckled forearms, this wonder he's showing at what his body can do.

There's a possibility that he could be doing this on purpose, but Jared's hoping he isn't.

"Humans have such weird ideas about dolphins," Jensen says after a stretch of rousing 70's orchestra music. Using dolphins as bomb carrying assassins is kind of weird, Jared has to agree. But it could be worse.

"Don't forget the dolphin spirit guide classes. People lay out a couple thousand dollars to become one with the dolphin spirits. Or the dolphin assisted births. Or like, all the people who think dolphins are really communicating with them and…" he pauses. "Um. You guys aren't really into doing that stuff, right?"

Jensen rolls his eyes before he sits up, no longer stretching down the length of the couch. "If there's one thing humans and cetaceans have in common, is that we'll do anything for a free meal. So, no, Jared, we're not communicating any secrets. There's no _So Long and Thanks for All the Fish_ —"

"Hey, you've read Douglas Adams?"

"Required summer reading," Jensen says dismissively. "My tutor—uh, they loved teaching us human fiction."

A crack about _schools of fish_ dies on Jared's tongue, because Jensen suddenly looks uncomfortable, his restless stretching turning into fidgeting. But Jared soldiers on, because all this talk about human relationships with the dolphins boils down to one question that he needs to know.

"Wait a minute, does that mean you guys fake training behaviors for the food?"

"Why doesn't Pa love Fa?" Jensen says, a blatant attempt to change the subject. He nods to the TV. "And training killer dolphins? Really? There's a reason why we have to hire out sharks for the royal guards."

That's new. And surprising. "Royal guards?"

"Well, uh," Jensen stammers, searching out another lie to skirt around the truth. "See there's this hierarchy and—" At this, Jensen gets up, exhaling in frustration. "It's an expression. It doesn't mean anything, and I should probably get going anyway. It's getting late."

It's only nine o'clock, Jared notes, but he turns off the DVD player and the cable news flips on. A monotonous, endless ramble of dialogue that fills in the awkward silence. He reaches up automatically, trying to tug Jensen back down easy and friendly. But his fingers circle Jensen's wrist, thumb running against the smooth skin, and Jared could swear static has gone off, the way Jensen jerks back and away.

"Hey, _hey_. Don't go yet."

He doesn't look down at Jared. He's looking at the TV, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow," and with that, he's stumbling out into the hallway and out the door.

The front door slams shut abruptly, with a news report with fuzzy, handheld footage of dark shapes in the water.

"…local wildlife experts estimate a forty percent increase in dolphin sightings off the Gulf Coast," the newscaster says.


	4. Chapter 4

As the summer waxes on the park's open for longer hours, and work starts ending later and later in the day. A constant barrage of tasks keep Jared busy more than Jensen would like and since he isn't a full time trainer, he can only participate so much before he needs to back off.

Despite the fact that basically any animal within the park listens to Jensen's commands.

They also seem to be listening to some juicy gossip, judging by the whispers he hears in different areas, from the jokes in Alligator Alley to the gossip in Flamingo Cove, and that's not even counting the madness going on in the Coral Reef.

Chad plays innocent at first when Jensen asks about it.

"Well, I might have said something. It's for your own good, Jensen!"

Telling the other animals about this is something Jensen doesn't exactly want or need—they already know about his background, and yeah, they probably peg him as "the one with the crush on the Tall-human". But knowing someone has a crush is a far cry away from trying to _do_ something about it, which is why he wishes he could crawl under a rock whenever they try to act on Jensen's behalf.

Like the construction of a heart-shaped statue out of shells and rocks in the sea otter habitat. Or the flamingo and peacock airstrike that left Jared and Jensen covered in feathers (an alternative to romantic rose petals, Jensen guesses). Or even the eels, sharks, and barracuda light show, which involved synchronized lights in tune with "Kiss the Girl" from _The Little Mermaid_.

They even get the land mammals involved, though how the Budweiser Clydesdales bringing Jared free cases of beer is supposed to help (other than get Jared immediately wasted), Jensen isn't sure.

It's the thought that counts, he reasons.

Jensen's in the middle of trying to tell Pete the Penguin that no, a musically coordinated boat ride with his band doing backup singing is a bad idea when Jared darts in, almost slip-sliding on the wet rock. It's messy and uncoordinated, two things Jared definitely isn't when it comes to his work—his single-mindedness extends to doing everything correctly, a near perfect example to others—so it's a hint that whatever reason he's here, it's serious.

Besides, seeing a six foot tall Jensen having an argument with a two foot tall Southern Rockhopper penguin, that will throw anyone.

"Hey!" Jared shouts, drumming his fingers on the doorway edge. With every rap of his fingertips, a new head pops out of one of the penguin nooks, until there are a few dozen sets of eyes, from a couple different species, all watching them.

'But Patrick composed a love song! It's awesome, man,' Pete says earnestly.

Jensen shoots him a dirty look. 'Like the time you tried to lead the Penguin Encounter members in a coup d'état?'

Pete puffs his chest up, squawking commandingly. 'I regret that I have but one egg to give for my country.'

'Oh, shut up,' Jensen replies dryly, straightening to stand as Pete hops back into his cave.

Jared watches them both with amused interest, mouth twitching like he's smothering down the urge to smile.

They leave the Encounter area shoulder to shoulder, before Jared hesitates, a step behind Jensen in the narrow walkway. "You make a habit of talking to penguins?"

"I have to talk to everyone," Jensen mutters. "It's my job."

"What are you, like some kind of dolphin ambassador?" Jared says with a laugh.

Jensen stands stock still, a lapse in _thinking_ or judgment or whatever, keeping him in place and unable to come up with an answer. Ambassador. Jared knows, damn it, he _knows_.

Jared stops, putting a hand on Jensen's arm. His brow furrows with concern. "Hey, Jensen, it's a joke. Us humans tend to do that."

"Well, it's not funny," Jensen grumbles. He sticks out his lower lip, this indication that he's learned, he's _pouting_ now, no longer worried or angry because Jared is already smiling. "I can't help it that I'm such an authority figure."

"Yeah, sure."

"They _all_ look up to me."

"Uh huh. Hard to see past that big melon of yours." Jared scrunches his nose. "Am I going crazy or are the penguins making music back there?"

Jensen scoffs, but he makes sure to hustle out Jared all the same.

He's almost disappointed to find out that the reason why Jared came to get him was to have him observe the trainer for a day interaction program. For a fee, the park allows visitors to watch the trainers do their daily tasks: from food prep to training, cleaning to preparing for shows. Having expanded the program in recent years, visitors both young and old stand around shivering in wetsuits, water lapping at their waists as the dolphins swim up and past their waists.

He stands over on the dock as a group of people stand in half a circle around Jared, the tallest of them all. Jensen folds his arms as he listens to Jared give his spiel in-between squeals from the children, their hands darting out to rub against the smooth rubbery skin of the dolphins. It's strange and funny to watch, seeing the way they're all a little wary of the animals: they had shivered when the stingrays floated on by them earlier.

Jensen knows personally that the stingrays wouldn't hurt anyone unless threatened, and for that part, even the sharks would rather play than bite people, but you can't break old human habits.

You can just try to bend them, just a little.

Like the dolphin rides, for instance. After months and years of working with the dolphins, the trainers have formed close and trusting relationships with those in their care, enough so that they can 'ride' them if the dolphin is up for it. They won't do it unless the animal is agreeable—if the dolphin doesn't want to, then they won't. Changing up the game goes hand in hand with training. Breezing through the choppy waves at a dazzling speed while balancing on the heads of two dolphins below is a tricky and awesome art.

For the guest patrons though, the rides basically involve the dolphins pushing their beaks on the soles of people's feet, pushing them up and through the water. It's not quite riding the dolphin as it is riding the waves.

And it's nowhere near the joy Jensen can recall of pushing through the water at his own speed, in whatever direction he chooses.

The thought sends a pang of nostalgia through Jensen as he watches Jared ride two of the dolphins to the cheering delight of the crowd. He tries not to bristle too much when Jared 'kisses' the dolphins either, because, well, it's not like he _owns_ Jared. It's just a display. With others that don't have nearly half the talent he has, but he can totally roll with it. To a point.

Because if there's a habit Jensen's going to break, it's Jared riding other dolphins.

What he doesn't expect are the buoys. Jensen is about to whistle a command (which is totally not the squeaking equivalent of "Jared is _mine_ " and a couple of cetacean expletives) when the talk of the humans grows louder, as a dolphin nudges a white buoy in front of a confused Jared, interrupting his talk.

One of the special packages for the patrons, Jensen has learned, is a romantic message: on Valentine's Day, a honeymoon, or an anniversary, there's roses and a bottle of Dom Perignon, and the dolphins act as Cupid, delivering a buoy with a personalized message. It's one of the campiest things the park has to offer, and Jensen would have refused to participate (on the grounds of cheesiness, while Chad said it was him being a diva).

Except he doesn't expect Jared's face to turn a few shades of red before a nearby older woman asks, "What's it say?" in a loud voice.

"Uh." Jared clears his throat, jerking his head to push away the wet strands of hair in his eyes. " _'To Jared, water you doing for the rest of your life? Love, Jensen.'_ "

Jensen can feel his stomach drop to somewhere between his knees. Even if he wishes for a tide pool to swallow him up, it won't take away the sight of Jared, embarrassed and looking at him curiously. Or how the group catches on, with Jared's gaze and Jensen's embarrassed expression, whooping it up with catcalls all around.

 

*

 

Preparation is a key word in Jared's vocabulary. It is one of the key words for any trainer that's sat through the so-called grueling sessions each apprentice trainer had to go through before they were ever allowed near the animals. Looking back on it, Jared never thought they were that bad. But then, Jared tends to have a higher tolerance for stray fish scales and cleaning endless amounts of feces more than the next person.

Preparation means collecting all resources necessary in order to participate. You never do it half-cocked; you do it with all the skills and training you can muster. It's how he survived the tests, the athletic physical, everything leading up to where he is now.

However, it all goes to hell when preparation has him staring all wide-eyed at Katie, because apparently there isn't any room left in his brain that isn't occupied with _work_ and _Jensen_ to register _SeaWorld at Night_.

It's the same thing they do every year: with the park open later, it gives way to nighttime shows and activities: like the _Shamu Rocks_ show, for instance.

"But I'm off. I have the day off. It's in the schedule. It's in there!"

Katie, meanwhile, is snorting and covering her mouth, this backward step as she laughs at the seals. It's the set for the Cannery Row Caper show: a funny take on noir films starring sea lions, otters, and up until recently, Wally the Walrus.

"Yeah, yeah," Katie says, half paying attention. She feeds one of the female sea lions a fish, and then turns to Jared. "It's only a suggestion that you come to the park. Trainers promoting the park, getting discounts, and having fun. You know fun, right? Calm down! No need to flip out."

"Sorry," Jared says, and he sincerely means it. There's no reason to freak out over it: hell, most of the time his sick days go unused as it is, always trying to find some way back to do work. But he automatically feels like there's an edge to Katie's request. Like there's something that's going on, that he's not _in_ on and it rubs him the wrong way.

"Anyway," Katie says nudging his arm, "what've you got planned?"

 _Beer and bad action movies_ rests on the tip of his tongue. His brother has a family barbeque for his wife and kids; his sister's abroad on vacation. And as for his parents, they decided to finally go on a cruise. It isn't like he doesn't visit them—he does, once in a while, when he isn't working—it's just that he didn't really _plan_ on seeing them for the holiday anyway. Jared could always try calling his old buddies, or the other trainers, see if they were up for beer, but it'd feel weird to do it, since he's usually out of the loop on these things as it is.

"Wait, I forgot. What about Jensen?"

"Jensen?"

"Yeah. Does he have anything to do?"

The sea lion next to Katie, Sandy, barks and huffs at Jensen's name. Jared is willing to bet that whatever Sandy is saying isn't exactly P.C.

He smirks at Katie. "Are you trying to set me up?"

"Heavens, no," Katie says, mock offense in her voice. "Whatever makes you less of a tightass in my book is fine by me. You go have fun. And by fun I mean, you know—"

He rolls his eyes and leaves with a smile before Katie starts doing rude gestures in front of the poor, innocent sea lions.

Getting Jensen to agree to come along for the July 4th parties is relatively easy. With the festival and sights, it's Texas at its finest, with the best beer, barbecue, and music that a person can ask for. At least, that's what Jared tells Jensen when they're walking through the park after hours.

Jensen's amazed by the sights, walking in slow circles that seemed to loop backwards. It takes a few tugs by Jared and the promises of food before they fall in step with one another.

Jensen is on his second ice cream cone, running his tongue along the rainbow sprinkles and cold vanilla swirl. There's a high chance that whatever Jensen is doing to that ice cream cone is probably illegal in some states, as are the groans he's making. You'd think a month in a human body would have him acclimated to eating, but he still looks completely delighted when given food. It could be an innate dolphin trait. Maybe—

Maybe Jared should stick to looking at the dazzling lights of the fountains and the kids running around, screaming gleefully, than get his head buried in facts and numbers. Just for a night. It could be good for his well-being.

"Would you like some?" Jensen asks, offering the melting cone to Jared.

"No, no, I'm good," Jared says, holding up a hand. Truthfully, he'd rather see Jensen continue eating the cone, thoughts bordering on sinful.

Jensen looks a little put out after that, plump lower lip jutting out. He's in a t-shirt, jeans, and boots this time, the material looser on him than what Jared is used to seeing. And how weird is that, that seeing Jensen without the spandex number is unsettling, because here he is, no doubt trying to blend in and Jared doesn't—

Doesn't want to upset him. It's this tightrope he's trying to balance on, because even though Jensen can be weird at times, it's through no fault of his own. He's _trying_.

As the night starts winding down and Jensen finishes the last of his cone, Jared guides him along, a hand on his shoulder or the small of his back. He's trying to reassure him that everything's fine, and in no way shamelessly touching him for the benefit of feeling him up in a totally platonic way.

Jared kind of wishes he'd taken the ice cream. Just to shove it down his pants.

The only solution to this has to be the _Shamu Rocks!_ show. Because if there were ever the most ridiculous, bombastic experience (outside of a Chuck Norris movie); it has to be this.

Jensen swallows down a clicking noise, this gurgle in his throat as Jared escorts him to the Whale Stadium. People fill the stands in streams of celebratory red, white, and blue, the smell of nachos, and beer in the air. It's a vivid snapshot of all things summer and insane, because that's when the rock music starts up, with loud, cheesy narration.

It's an orca show, sure, but with lasers, and the exclusive 'Ring of Fire' move. Jared knows it's taken these trainers months to do, to get two orcas to swim in a circle facing opposite each other—swim with trainers balancing on their heads, at least a dozen feet up above the water. It's beyond ridiculous, but Jared has to admit that it also looks pretty cool. The music soars with a wailing guitar solo courtesy of Chris Kane, the resident park band leader, playing his heart out high above on a platform near the deluxe flat screens as pyrotechnics go off.

Jared leans forward in his chair. "Dude. That's freakin' _awesome_."

"Yeah, whatever," Jensen sighs. "That's nowhere near as hard as a triple flip, if you ask me."

Jared snorts, looking back at Jensen. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No!" Jensen yelps. His stern glare is softened by the fact that he has a swipe of ice cream on the tip of his nose. "Oh, great, they're doing the Winchester 21 Watergun Salute. Big deal!"

Laughter rises up in Jared, because Jensen looks so annoyed at the whole thing, blatantly staring at the way the audience members cheer and scream, waving flags and stuffed animals. When it comes to behaviors, Jensen had always been the best student, willing to learn—but the amazement Jared had at teaching him is slightly worn off, knowing that in some respects, it could've been so easy to do it.

But then Jensen looks at him, brow furrowing. "There's the Texas Splashdown outside," he says loudly, trying to be heard over the music. "It looks like fun. All the humans keep screaming!"

"They're people, Jensen. What you and me are. Let's call them people for tonight."

"All right then," Jensen responds, last word muffled as a loud crack goes off in the air, making him jerk. The sky is streaked red and gold with light, as Jared shouts, "Fireworks!" over the booming sound. The remnants glitter down in circular spirals, zigzagging trails of light.

It's like getting another glimpse of a fascinating world, with the way the light flares blue and stray rays spiral out, resembling fish darting through the water.

But the best part is how Jensen stares wonderingly above, and he looks back down, suddenly _understanding_ why people are cheering, screaming and hugging as the fireworks go off. It's this cheery moment, the kind of bonding that always happens with these displays. Jared can understand it, sure, but Jensen seems completely fascinated by the whole thing, eyes darting as he processes it all.

Jared nudges Jensen's thigh with his own. "You like it?"

"It's beautiful," he finally responds, turning to look at Jared.

"Yeah, it is," Jared says, and he leans back this time, his arm coming up and around Jensen's chair.

He realizes he's doing the arm move right in the middle of actually _doing_ it, so he sort of cuffs Jensen on the top of his head with his upper arm, and then it's—okay, it's really bad fumble as Jared tries not to spill a Coke on Jensen's lap.

"Ah, uh, sorry! You've got—here, let me get that for you," Jared says, swallowing audibly. He gently wipes the tip of Jensen's nose with his thumb.

Jensen leans forward, his eyes shutting as Jared wipes. He opens his eyes, looking disappointed. "Is this a date, Jared? Because this feels like a date."

"What? This is not—no!" Jared says, and they've had this conversation before, only this time the qualifying and backpedaling sounds fake to his own ears.

It's hard to deny the pull of want in him, deep under all the worry. How very wrong this is and can be, but the thought of it all dies when there's only Jensen's touch and fingers against the curve of Jared's jawline.

Jensen's fingers curl in Jared's hair experimentally, flexing them, testing them out. Little puffs of his breath on Jared's mouth, and the searing line of his gaze, with too green eyes that shut before he's kissing Jared. He presses against his side, arm digging into Jared's ribs, but it doesn't matter, because it's _Jensen_ kissing him, hungry and hot. Jared's lips part in response as Jensen's tongue pushes in eagerly, thumb rubbing a circle against his pulse.

They make out for a while; air of celebration around them before the crowd settles down and Jared keeps a hand on Jensen's thigh. When it's time to go, and they're at the parking lot, right near Jared's truck, Jensen kisses him on the lips, softly. It's quiet and not at all pushy, taking their time.

Jared braces a hand against the truck roof, one kiss, another, pulling the door open. He sucks on Jensen's bottom lip, feeling warmth pool in his belly at the flash of Jensen's shiny wet mouth in the dark, glittering lights of the park entrance behind them.

The gesture is understated, Jared leaving it open: _come or don't come, it's up to you_.

Jensen only kisses him again, looking curiously at the door. It takes a beat for Jared to realize Jensen might not get it, so he nods at the open truck door. "Do you want to come back to my place?"

The moment that follows is longer; as Jensen takes a step back, looking at the truck, then back to Jared. Processing it, he finally says, "Now? Is that all you want?"

"Shit. _Shit_." Jared curses, sharp under his breath as he fidgets in place. "That's not what I meant—I, no. Not—not just that."

It isn't all he wants, and fuck, it's coming out wrong. Jared tries to salvage the moment, saying, "I guess I'll see you at work. You need a ride back to Chad's?"

Jensen shakes his head, a wistful grin as he taps the side of the truck. "No, I can walk. See you tomorrow, Jared. Thank you."

It's an altogether odd moment, the space stretching endless between them as Jensen walks back to the park, but when he turns his head and gives the slightest curve of a smile, Jared grins back.

 

*

 

Finding his way back to the Jim's apartment in the dark is a pain in the ass, especially when Jensen's feeling like he's being pulled in all different directions.

He'd pretended to leave for Jared's sake, but doubled back to the park, managing to finally get to the secret door for access. Jim is likely asleep and Jensen took his warning not to bother him quite seriously. Chad isn't around, though Jensen is willing to venture a guess that Chad decided to go out and celebrate with his co-workers at a bar.

Being around a group of humans for an extended period of time—when work or his fellow animals aren't involved—is still unsettling to him. But it's something that Jensen knows he wants to rectify.

It's an idea that he clings to, even with the late night news talking about the continued rise of dolphin sightings off the coast.

 

*

 

Jared is in the water, waiting for that shock of cold to wake him up just a little bit more—into a world where he didn't just make out with Jensen and _liked_ it, confirmed that this was _right_.

"Earth to Jared! Stop daydreaming! Cleaning time!"

Jared looks up, realizing he's been treading water for the past few minutes, without any particular reason. On the other side of the tank, by the orca habitat, Katie hefts a halibut on her shoulder and it's as big as her arm, the whole effect funny if she wasn't glaring at him.

Winchester slowly rolls and pushes towards Katie, waiting for his snack. After she lets him swallow the fish whole, his mouth opens again, letting her rub the soft pink tongue.

So Jared cleans. By mid-afternoon, if he never has to look at crap again in his life, he'd be that much better off. Despite the fact that it's a slow day and there are only a handful of people in the audience during the daily shows, Jared doesn't see Jensen at all. Jensen is always at the show without fail—Jared can often spot him standing to the side, arms folded and moody.

Maybe it's because Jared is doing behaviors with _other_ dolphins or the dolphins are not nailing down the techniques as flawlessly as he did? Jared can't tell, the salute and smile Jared gives at the end is brief as the music dies down, the only sound is blood rushing in his ears and his own tired breathing.

After getting changed, Jared pops his head into the kitchen, ready to check the other offices and the backstage tanks next. But before he's out the door, he can see Jensen alone there, looking wet and rumpled, but only from the neck down. He's shrugging off his crisp, white over shirt and shaking his hair dry. When he sees Jared, he beams, grin wide. It makes Jared's stomach flip a little, nervousness tipping over into something else, just as dizzying.

"Busy day?" Jared asks lamely, unable to come up with something that doesn't amount to, _I missed you, where were you?_. Disappointment and worry eats away at him, like Jensen might not want to continue this, especially after the way things ended last night. Jared fidgets, drumming twitchy fingers on the metal countertop behind him.

Jensen rubs his wet hair as he comes closer. "I got roped into an impromptu information session with some kids at the touch pool. Stingrays have this annoying habit of whispering everything so I might have leaned in a little too far to hear what they were saying." Jensen shrugs sheepishly.

"How'd that go?" Jared asks.

"Turns out it was a knock-knock joke," Jensen chortles softly to himself. "They really love knock-knock jokes too."

Jared rolls his shoulders back, tension dissipating. "Give me an example."

"Um, knock-knock, hello it's the Interrupting Seahorse," Jensen says.

"I don't know if that's the way it—" Jared starts to say.

"And then I said I told you I'd interrupt! Or, um, it's a lot better when the stingrays tell it. Trust me."

Jared groans. "You're lucky you're hot."

"I know," Jensen says, quirking his head. His eyes scan Jared's face, twinkling with curiosity. "Did you miss me?"

"Kind of," Jared admits, before he huffs. "Yeah, I did. I thought you were pissed at me."

"Pissed?"

"Like you didn't want—"

"This? You?" Jensen interrupts, dropping all pretense of banter, because soon enough he's face to face with Jared, hands settling on Jared's waist. His face is inches away from Jared's, gaze flicking from Jared's eyes to his nose, to his mouth. It's like he's searching, this unsettling gaze that's trying to figure Jared out, fingers curling on Jared's shirt collar. "Do you still want to wait?"

"Oh, God no," Jared says, letting a grunt escape as Jensen tugs on Jared's shirt.

His lips finally press against Jared's neck, licking a line up and over his jaw line, tongue against the scrape of stubble. Jensen's touches are both soft and hard—each kiss along Jared's face, lingering, trying to capture something, a taste. Jensen's fingers press insistently against Jared's waistline, thumb pulling on the belt loops of his slacks.

Jensen clicks his tongue, a disapproving noise, vibrations against Jared's mouth. "Here? Is that what you want?"

The cold room becomes that much hotter when Jensen is pressing up against Jared's chest, warmth and wetness seeping through Jared's shirt. Jensen drops to his knees quickly, unbuttoning and pulling down Jared's zipper, tugging his jeans and boxers down just far enough.

And Jared wants to talk, this erratic question in his mind, _are you okay with this?_ , but all that's coming out is "Oh!" because Jensen is insistent, pressing his face against Jared's leg, breathing in. The breath of air is a warm surprise, one that gives Jared goose bumps, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The urge to tug Jensen's hair is strong, all tousled and wet, but the thing is, Jared is almost afraid it'll stop him. But there is no way he's letting it stop, not now, after denying himself this for so long. After denying himself _Jensen_ , for so long. So he strokes the temples of Jensen's head instead, bracing against the counter for balance.

But there's a challenge in trying to keep himself upright, with the way Jensen's mouth closes over the head of Jared's cock, sloppy and messy, his fingers gripping Jared's hips.

Nosing Jared's belly as he pushes forward, Jared feeling his cock slide into the warm, wet heat of Jensen's mouth. He can feel Jensen relaxing his throat and for a sweet, amazing moment there is nothing but the edge of anticipation, Jared praying for Jensen to move and biting back the shout when Jensen finally does.

The back and forth has Jared on a sharp edge, barely able to keep from coming, groaning when he feels Jensen's hand slide rough and down Jared's flat stomach, a quick stroke down his cock, tongue swirling around the head before Jensen's massaging Jared's balls.

Jared nearly bites through his bottom lip.

Jared feels his breath hitch and his voice stutter, this urge not only to keep quiet as it is to keep it private, because this is all something new and different, but most importantly, it's _theirs_. No one else's.

Being quiet or discrete is impossible in this room, an echo following the satisfied hum Jensen makes as he licks enthusiastically at Jared's cock. Jared's hips roll up, and his shoes skid on the tiled floor, rubber soles straining to get a grip when he feels ready to tip off the edge.

Jensen's moaning as he pulls off, hand still working at Jared's balls and his other hand running slick up his cock, He mutters some muffled word, tonguing the tip of him, and just like that, Jared is fucking _done_. He comes, spurting into Jensen's mouth, his cheek, cock giving an interested twitch at the sight of Jensen licking it up, the way his whole face lights up at the taste, at this new use of his mouth, this _experience_.

Jared leans back, jerking his hips, _up, come up_ , with Jensen complying. There are brief kisses against Jared's belly and chest, before Jensen is smiling against his mouth, lips still smeared and wet.

"Let's—" Jared sighs against the swipe of Jensen's tongue, a taste of brine and come. He tries to talk again, his voice cracking a little. "Let's go to my place? Make it easier."

"Yes," Jensen says, though his hands tell a different story, pulls of Jared's cock still, trying to keep up his interest. The aftershocks are too much and Jared bats Jensen's hands away from his crotch. If they keep up at this rate, he's not going to make it to his truck. And he really needs to make it to his truck, and his home, and his bed, and Jensen needs to keep _on_.

 

*

 

Jensen thinks he was pretty well-behaved in the car ride, despite Jared laughing into his mouth as they make it to the doorway and joking: "So that's probably the first time I'd ever been molested while driving."

Some fumbling steps into the bedroom later, Jared breaks away, a nervous laugh as he looks to the ceiling, saying, a little embarrassed, "Um, do you know?"

"I got it," Jensen starts, as he tugs Jared's pants and boxers all the way down this time. "I can do it."

He's interrupted by Jared's smiling mouth, as he's pushed back onto the bed. It should send a little thrill through Jensen, this reward of a bedroom to do this in, but right now his eyes are only trained on Jared. And how Jared's wrist flexes, his hand spanning over one hip, this careless tug to try and get Jensen's jeans off.

Jared groans against Jensen's mouth, this unintelligible mumble before he pulls back. "How?"

"Does it matter?" Jensen says gruffly, keeping in enough edge in his voice to see Jared roll his hips up, kneeling and scrambling back for the nightstand. Lube and condoms, things he's learned about. The last thing Jensen needs is to spell it out for Jared, how he's had plenty of time and _is_ friends with Chad, so he's figured out some of the logistics that come with this kind of body.

Plus, he has had sex before and there's one common denominator: whatever feels good, _is_ good.

But for the first time it's completely different for Jensen. So he takes his time, vaguely remembering some expression about how slow and steady wins the race, savoring the bursts of energy between them as Jensen learns Jared's limits and his limbs.

Examining his own body is one thing, but to have Jared's body under his is a whole other story, something new and captivating that he needs to explore. Jared falls back on the bed, stretching out, all golden skin that sends a twitch of interest straight to Jensen's cock, hardwired lust that has him breathing Jared in.

Licking and sucking a path down, Jensen can feel Jared's heartbeat underneath his palm, a fierce beat, completely wild.

He dips down, an irregular path with his tongue, trying to trace the skin with his teeth, grinning when he finds a spot that makes Jared laugh a little. His hands slide over the slim cut of Jared's hips, nosing the coarse hair at the base of his dick. He presses a hand there, trying to stave him off, relishing the moan that comes when Jensen rubs his face on the inside of Jared's thigh.

It's all about sensory touch right now, the little noises in the back of Jared's throat, something that can only mean _more_. He tries to suck on the round of Jared's hip, but it only has him bucking up, impatient jutting of his torso.

"Come on, you're killing me. Hurry up," Jared grunts, leaning up to press a kiss against Jensen's mouth, getting his aim wrong. He catches the edge of Jensen's chin as he falls back. The movement has Jensen ending up eye level with Jared's dick, which works out pretty well for his tastes, licking a stripe along the underside of Jared's dick.

His mouth closes over the head, tongue swirling, the " _ah, ah_ " of Jared's voice a welcomed accompaniment to the rhythm Jensen sets. Long and slow, trying to get every inch, feeling the tip of Jared's cock pressing against the back of his throat before he pulls off, a wet and messy smacking noise. Jensen wraps fingers around him, reveling in the ruddy dark color, amazed at the flush on Jared's face, his eyes closed shut.

Jensen quirks his mouth at that, knowing that Jared is holding back on him. And that won't work, not at all. It's easier to jerk him off with the benefit of spit and pre-come, these quick tugs of his dick that have Jared flexing, rolling his hips, cursing up a storm.

"Impressive," Jensen says because if he doesn't speak he might do something stupid like put Jared's cock back in his mouth and end this before he's even begun.

"Jesus, you're trying to kill me. This isn't fair."

"Now you asked for it," he answers, bending down and licking the underside of Jared's cock.

Jared's dick curves up, spurting messily against his stomach, wetness that Jensen has to rub in and taste, if only to hear Jared groan deep in his throat, his breath hitching.

His stomach muscles jerk under Jensen's tongue, a laugh tearing out of him before Jared bends forward, lifting Jensen's chin to lick the come off his mouth "Can we?" he says, this wondering tone while Jensen kneels forward, thighs brushing Jared's own.

Jensen kisses him thoroughly, locking arms around Jared's shoulders so when he least expects it, he can make his move. Pulling Jared with him to the other side of the bed, Jared's narrow hips fit snug between Jensen's legs.

Jared laughs into Jensen's mouth. "You've been practicing that move?"

"The most amazing thing people ever invented after TV was the internet," Jensen admits, shamelessly rubbing up against Jared, his cock stiff and slick, the pre-come beading down.

"You said people. Not humans," Jared says, his hand closing over Jensen's dick. Anything Jensen might want to say in response is gone with Jared doing _that_ to him.

Jensen never wants to forget the smile spreading on Jared's face: the way his hair falls into his eyes and how his nose scrunches up a little. He can't help but reach up, nuzzling nose against nose. He's happy to let Jared change it up, biting Jensen's bottom lip before sinking his mouth to his in a lazy, careless kiss.

He pauses and looks at Jared's face; something he feels should be said as he pushes back Jared's hair, sucking a kiss below his jaw. "Condoms?"

"Yeah. I'll—I'll get it. Um. Do you need any pointers or…"

"Be noisy and I'll figure it out," Jensen murmurs, playfully smacking Jared on the ass. He really doesn't want to explain to Jared all the research he actually has done. Telling someone you're about to—what? Fuck? That seems too simple a word for it and Jensen's never really thought about sex as something more than that. Jensen has done everything save for this giant leap for transformed-into-a-human-dolphin-kind and he is going to damn well take his time. He tells Jared that, at least, pushing Jared on his stomach, murmuring promises of how he'll make it good, so good. "Tell me what you want."

The choked out "you" as Jensen teases at Jared's entrance with a lubed-up finger makes him pause, unsure if now, now is the time that he has to tell him the truth. All or nothing.

He recovers, quickly, his free hand gliding down Jared's back. Admiring where his skin fades, the summer tan uneven, Jensen bends down to breathe in the scent of summer off Jared's back. Slowly working in a second finger, Jensen gently strokes that spot, right there, working at the prostrate until Jared's voice is a harsh whisper, encouraging him to keep going.

"No," Jensen decides, backing off to begin rolling down the condom on his dick. He hates that he has a fleeting thought of Chad, sitting on Jim's couch, showing Jensen how to roll down a condom over a banana. Fortunately Jared's glorious naked body makes Jensen think much more welcome thoughts.

"No?" Jared cranes his neck to look at Jensen, staring confusedly. "Oh. Do you have, uh, second thoughts? We don't have to, I mean, it's…"

"I want—"

"To wait," Jared says, a sudden whirl of motion, turning around and sitting up to face Jensen. He glumly nods his head. "I get it. I _don't_ , but I really want you—"

Jensen shuts him up with the best way he's figured out how. He can't wait to learn what other things Jared can do with his tongue.

"I want you too. But, can we do it—?" Jensen clears his throat, tries not to say _belly to belly_ because that's not how it's said. Correcting himself, Jensen says, "Face to face? I want to see you."

"You've got to stop teasing me," Jared says, pulling him along as they fall back on the bed.

Jared hitches his legs up, helping to spread lube messily on Jensen's cock.

"You're so impatient," Jensen says, willing every bit of control to not fuck him right then and there. It's hard to do so when he sees Jared so close and open like this, the hitch of his breath, the way his body feels restless and warm under Jensen's touch. He presses inside of Jared with his fingers, getting in three this time, able to better understand how good it feels when he can see the raw and naked expression on Jared's face.

"Horny," Jared agrees, fucking himself on Jensen's fingers. Then he says, darkly, "You keep on teasing me and just think what it'll be like when I get to fuck you."

That comment earns Jared his reward, Jensen removing his fingers and pressing his cock right at the entrance. He's so thick and fucking ready that it's amazing he hasn't come against Jared's leg already.

Hooking his leg around Jensen's waist, Jared nods, pulls Jensen into him. It's a slow, luxurious glide, before Jensen moves, thrusting into Jared as he steadies himself on elbows.

This can't last. It's too right, having Jared spread beneath him, completely trusting and pushing back. Jared is also pretty bendy, his hips rolling up as Jensen gets a better angle, sliding deeper inside.

" _Fuck_ ," Jared hisses.

"I'm glad you approve." Jensen wishes his voice hadn't come out in such a ragged whisper, betraying the fact that he's about to come. He can feel his balls tighten as he fucks Jared harder, grabbing his hips, quickening the pace. "Jared, I—"

But he can't say anything else as the world slips away as he comes, stilling against Jared, mouth pressed against Jared's chest.

He lies there for a while, feeling the vibrations of Jared's chest against his lips as Jared starts to laugh shakily.

"You okay?" Jared asks.

"That was…" Jensen searches for a word, in English or in Dolphin that could describe what he's feeling.

"Yeah. I know." Jared groans a little when Jensen pulls out, reassuring him, "No, it feels weird, after. Uh, you'll find that out. If—"

"Yes," Jensen says, simply. Pulling off the condom and throwing it out, he wobbly makes his way back onto the bed. "Does it always feel like this?"

"One way to find out," Jared says. "Can you stay tonight?"

"Of course," Jensen says. "There's nowhere else I'd want to be."

For the first time, sleep comes to him easily, Jared's presence a promise of tomorrow as he drifts off.

 

*

 

The next morning, things take an interesting turn when Jared asks, of all things, how to speak dolphin. And Jensen tries to teach him the alphabet for a start.

Practice should make perfect but Jared winces at his practice run of squeals, clicks and other guttural and high-pitched noises. It's bad. Really bad.

"Your vowels are strange," Jensen tells him, this commanding pose that would work better if he wasn't completely naked, standing by the large corner windows. Thankfully, the glass starts waist up.

He's already called in sick, the almost impossible to hide satisfied feeling not quite backing up his claim of being under the weather; as he chirped to Katie over the phone, trying to fake a cough for emphasis.

Jared shifts in bed as the sheets wrap around his legs, trying not to think about how they'll be going through _another_ set of sheets later. Covering his face with a pillow, Jared groans. "That's because my larynx isn't made that way."

Jensen shrugs. "I can still do it."

"You also learned to walk on two legs and speak within your first hour of being human," Jared points out. "I'm thinking you're just a fast learner."

"That makes sense," Jensen says, lips quirking into a smile. When he slides under the covers, he's all over Jared, dragging fingers up his calves, hip rutting against his thigh, mouth on his neck. It's as though every part needs to be touched and tested out. Rubbing and pawing at each other like a bunch of horny teenagers until Jensen buries his nose in Jared's neck and smells him, licking and biting at the soft skin.

"So, is that how you learned English, from listening to me?" Jared asks when he gets on his back, looking up at the way Jensen's Adam's apple bobs. He arches up and licks the dip of Jensen's collarbone, realizing he's become a lot touchier than he'd ever been with anyone before. Because nothing before has ever been like this—snuggling, sure, but keeping out of the wet spot has always been a higher priority than sticky, sweaty limbs rubbing up against each other.

"No," Jensen says lazily, waving a hand. "The royal tutors—"

"The who?" Jared interrupts.

Jensen shifts his weight, resting on his elbow. "It's a joke, I'm joking!" Jensen laughs nervously. "I did learn English from you, Jared."

He quirks his mouth as Jared slides against him, feeling the rough and smooth stickiness of Jensen's legs wrapped around his own. A shower, he decides, would be a fantastic idea. "I think we should—"

"Can we stay here?" Jensen asks, suddenly looking apprehensive. "And fuck each other?"

Jared will never get used to the way his voice rumbles, mouth against Jared's pulse and hand slowly teasing him, thumb rubbing the head of his dick.

"Yeah. We could—can do that in the _shower_ ," Jared suggests, trying to keep out the lick of sarcasm that threatens to creep into his voice. "Whenever you want. We have time."

Pulling back, Jensen looks down at Jared, wrinkle of worry between his brows. "Oh, right. We have time."

"Hey," Jared shudders, the back and forth of Jensen's thumb sliding over the head of his dick teasingly, slowly. Reaching a hand up, he touches Jensen's temple, stretching to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Jared slaps Jensen's thigh, smirking as he feels him jerk, gasp a little against him. "C'mon, let's hop in the shower and I'll make you breakfast. I'll teach you how to make pancakes."

 

*

 

He does a lot more than teach Jensen how to make pancakes.

Jensen can hear Chad in the far-off distance making a lewd joke about that. And yes, there was plenty of _that_ but once the sex got out of the way, it made talking about things a lot easier.

Except for the whole truth, which Jensen promises to himself he will share, just as soon as it's the right time. Whenever that is.

The dolphin and human culture exchanges become more interactive after that: Jensen telling Jared about dolphin sleeping habits, or tools used to stun fish in hunting.

And he relished learning the bits and pieces of human culture Jared showed him, like Wii Golf, or bike riding, or best of all, a trip to the movies—a real movie theater, with popcorn and sticky floors, the projector light rays resembling sunlight underwater.

It's a give and take that's never strictly academic, because when they're in the mood—and away from prying eyes—it'll dissolve into blow jobs, hand jobs, and many new sex positions. The kind that excite him as much as they wear Jensen out.

Having sex face to face is one thing, but having sex from behind is another, and god, for what he thought was a clumsy body when he'd first woken up human, it's fantastically flexible.

When it comes down to it, both of them share an equal love of blowjobs.

For Jensen, there's nothing better than to wake up early in the morning and feel the press of Jared's lips and tongue against him, before he's nosing against Jensen's crotch. Watching the length of his cock get swallowed up by Jared's mouth, cheeks hollowing as he takes Jensen in more, _all_ of him, that's a sight Jensen will not forget, one that he wishes to recreate whenever possible.

They'll have sex at Jared's place and sometimes at the park, away from security cameras, knowing just the right spots in which they fit without being seen or interrupted. All they need is the right amount of space for Jensen to drop to his knees when Jared peels off the top half of his wetsuit. Jensen will tug on the empty sleeves to pull it off as much as necessary, grabbing the cheeks of Jared's ass to shove him forward into Jensen's waiting mouth.

"You're in my sunlight," Chad says, pushing his sunglasses down to toss Jensen a reproachful glare. "And for the love of Triton, stop grossing me out."

"You wanted to know," Jensen shoots back, flopping down beside Chad on a nearby beach chair. Instead of a pool deck, it's up on the roof of one of the office buildings, a far cry from the wide and deep space of the park pools. The dirt streaked surface and rooftop antennae would never be Jensen's first choice for sunbathing, but given Chad's transformation problem, it seems best to stay clear of any public setting that involves water, beaches or pools included.

Thankfully they found out that Chad could use a standing shower without turning back into his natural state. Although going without a shower long enough certainly brought back his natural _musk_.

Jensen nudges Chad's bare leg. Watching his friend sunbathe sends a pang of weird nostalgia through Jensen, reminded of all the times Chad would spend above water, his love of the sun beaming down as great as Jensen's love of swimming. Or it could've been Chad's love of all the other walruses in the colony and the promise of easy sex. It's hard to say.

"Yeah I wanted to know but in a customary, 'I care for your well-being as personal assistant to the royal heir'-blah blah," Chad says. "You don't need to tell me any more details."

"Fine, no more details. How should I tell Jared about how I really am?"

"Well, maybe you should just _tell him_ ," Chad suggests, rolling his eyes. He holds up his empty glass. "You mind getting me a refill, your Majesty?"

"You're the best royal attendant ever," Jensen says, snatching the empty glass. Shading his eyes, Jensen watches Jim appear from the rooftop entrance, thick sunblock slathered on his nose and novelty shades on his eyes, arms full with a cooler and radio.

Despite the fact that more often than not, Jim looks like he wants to reprimand or smack both Jensen and Chad, it's becoming comfortable to have him around. Someone else that's in on the whole deal gives a feeling of relief, where it might be terror in others: other people wouldn't understand, but Jim does.

Today is almost like a regular day at the beach, minus the sand, the waves, and… well, basically anything that resembles Jensen's former life. Heat sizzles off the roof in waves, hot to the touch whenever he forgets to put on flip flops.

Jim passes by Jensen, ignoring the offered glass. "Don't look at me, kid, you gotta get used to doing things for yourself."

Jensen snorts, feeling his shoulders tense. Doing things on his own is the whole _point_ of being at the park and in this body. "I can do things for myself! Jared's been teaching me a lot of things."

"Yeah?" Jim asks, sliding right into the deck chair. He wipes his sweaty brow with a SeaWorld cap, peering up at Jensen. "He teach you how to cook and clean? Give you any driving lessons yet?"

Jensen swallows. "He's tried—"

Chad sits up, suddenly taking interest. "Yeah, you're not gonna have servants or trainers taking care of you anymore, dude."

Like a riptide, the knowledge comes and almost knocks him off-kilter, because they're right—little details he hadn't thought about, just sitting out of focus outside of his vision.

Learning to live as a human takes time, but Jensen, he's trying his hardest. Only the thing is, from his friends, to his family, and his kingdom; he's going to have to give up everything in order to stay with Jared.

If Jared still wants to be with him forever, that is. He needs only to look at Jim to see how that can work out in the end—being alone, in a world that he wasn't born into and had no reason to celebrate in his life.

Behold, the human dolphin prince. He would be ridiculed or deemed clinically insane.

But what if it all falls apart after a few years, or maybe only months, with Jared, then what? He couldn't go back.

He'd never again have the option of regaining those things he took for granted.

Because of Jared. Because Jensen loves something greater than himself.

Jim starts to fiddle with the radio, grinning in approval when it settles on an old rock station.

"I don't know," Jensen says, honestly.

"It's something you gotta think about, Jensen. Because pretty soon, that option to go home isn't gonna be there. Make sure you're making the right choice."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure this is all right? You can just give me a yell and we'll go. Like, right now," Jared whispers urgently, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up as Jensen tips back his large glass, face blurry through the bottom of it. He wraps a hand around Jensen's thigh, a soft pressure that might keep them both grounded. And maybe it's Jensen rubbing off on him too, because he won't turn down touching him as much as possible. It's like a contact high, the feeling he gets. Like a drug, even.

Jared erratically chalks up another reason for them not to be here, because if someone starts passing around special brownies, then Jensen will no doubt be down for the count.

In a way it's like Jensen is taking one for the team—for Jared—as much as he is interested in trying out something new and distinctly human: going out for drinks on a Friday night. Never mind the fact that Jared barely had time to scrub the gunk and fish scales off him after work—Katie insists that he and Jensen come along with the rest of the gang.

She gives him a pointed look as he stares apprehensively at Jensen's large glass, filled to the brim with something fruity and pink.

"You _so_ owe me," Katie says, sitting down abruptly in their booth. The bar is furnished with dark woods and odd memorabilia pinned to the walls between large televisions. Jensen on the other hand looks fascinated with the whole place, grinning up at those people moving by and sitting near, this endless movement as music blasts from speakers. There's even a disco ball and colored lights, moving rays of blues and greens that play against the sharp angles of his face.

Jared leans back, putting an arm around Jensen's back and grabbing Katie close to his side suddenly, making her giggle and push away from him. "And how do I owe you?"

"You missed the last employee volleyball tournament," Katie sniffs.

Jared looks up, trying to calculate the days in his head. "I think I was busy monitoring one of the dolphin calves that day."

Katie rolls her eyes, pushing him back as she braces an arm on his lap, looking over at Jensen. "Too bad you weren't here for that game. We could've used you as a captain!"

"Hey! Taking care of adorable dolphins!" Jared protests. "Isn’t that what we signed up for?"

Jensen gives him a pointed look at that before turning away, twirling the little toothpick umbrella between his fingers, staring at the widescreen television.

As far as the music goes, it's campy 80's music, the mood fun and comfortable. No pounding bass beats, no wailing electric guitar solos. Just _Take On Me_ and awful singing along at times, probably confusing Jensen more than it is educating him, a snapshot of a time that most people might try to forget.

But he's grinning as he takes another drink, and Jared has his share too: he takes long pulls of a Heineken, trying to keep his head clear enough. Katie gets up for drinks and for her boyfriend, because within minutes she's sitting on Aldis' lap, joining in on another conversation.

"Are you having a good time?" Jensen asks, his voice low and lips pressing against Jared's neck, earlobe. He's a little wobbly, shifting his weight to sit closer as his lips brush Jared's neck.

It feels _really_ good, especially since Jensen and personal boundaries don't mix well with alcohol, seeing as he's running a finger along Jared's waistline, a feather light touch of warmth against exposed skin. It's light and barely there, but Jensen's fingers are so damn _teasing_ , a knuckle wrapping around Jared's belt loop and a hand moving to unbuckle Jared's pants—

Jared clears his throat, hitching up his hips, and trying not to spill his beer. "Ah, Jensen! I'm, I'm all right."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Katie waving them over from the far away table.

"Go over there," Jared says with a nod. "You don't have to sit here with me."

"But I'm fine right here," Jensen grumbles. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yeah but sometimes it'll be like this," Jared responds as he straightens up. He waves the bottle over at the array of people in the bar. "This is how the world is _outside_ of the park. It's not always dolphin shows and cheesy music and…" Jared falters, because Journey is on, _Don't Stop Believin'_ accompanying a round of whooping patrons doing shots. "Go and look around. Talk to people. Have fun. You don't need to stick with me all night."

This time Jensen is the one to roll his eyes, standing up, a hand clasped around Jared's wrist. "I like how you think we don't have parties in the ocean. It's cute. _Naïve_ , but cute."

"Yeah, you gonna tell me they have dolphin keggers?" Jared laughs as his wrist drops and Jensen takes off to talk with Katie and Aldis.

The music's loud and the laughs are loud and frequent, so Jared gets into the thick of it, making a pass around the bar to talk to others. It's fun without the pressure of the workplace, where everyone can joke and relax.

Some of the old stories send a pang of sadness through Jared, because he wasn't _there_ for the time Aldis's brother came down for a weekend and they all went bowling, or the time they went to Austin to see Chris and Steve, the other member of the house band, play with a few buddies. The response is always, "you were busy," "didn't think you were interested," or "I thought you were afraid of dinner theater?"

The last one's Mike, obviously, flopping on the chair next to Jared. Jared doesn't really get a word in edgewise to defend himself, because Mike elbows him as he talks.

"You hear anything back about Dean?" Mike says loudly, in between bursts of electronic music. Someone had messed around with the jukebox. Each heavy beat has Jared sitting up straighter, mouth dry. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't doing his body any favors, and freaking out at Mike won't help either.

Tagging the animals before they're released is standard procedure, but Jared hadn't thought of what 'Dean's' release might mean to others—he'd been too busy trying to deal with this strange and fascinating new person in Dean's place, otherwise occupying the time he would spend training his best dolphin.

"Haven't heard anything yet," Jared responds smoothly. "His tag might've malfunctioned. There's no way to tell right now."

"Ah. Figured I'd ask. You were always hanging out with the guy." Mike shrugs. "Like Winchester and me, you know?"

"You're not his trainer," Jared says, trying to casually sit back and sneak a quick look over at Jensen. There's a group around him, a mix of trainers and workers, carrying on a conversation that Jared is too far away to hear.

One or two girls are close to Jensen, close enough to hang on his every word, and he flirts and banters back. Sure, it sparks some concern, okay, fine, _jealousy_ , on Jared's part, this twitchiness under his skin at the way Jensen manipulates his body language, this dawning realization. This is flirting.

This is not enough alcohol in his system to get all analytical when it comes to Jensen's behavior. Not to mention deal with a curious whale mascot who's scowling at Jared laying out the facts.

"Don't you miss him? Heck, I asked Katie about Wally—" Right, Chad. "—and she's bummed out about him, even if he wasn't the best trained."

"I guess I do," Jared admits. "But he's in a better place right now."

He can't believe how cheesy he sounds. Another gulp of his beer as the heat rises and the music goes up. "It's kind of weird—I took care of him and trained him for fifty, sixty hour work weeks sometimes. And then he gets cleared to go, and I'm happy that he's got a new chance out there, you know? But at the same time it's like I've got a second shot here, try to think about me for once, and all I need to do is not screw it up."

This seems to satisfy Mike for an answer, as his head lolls back on the couch. "That's deep."

When Jared looks over at Jensen, if only for the briefest of moments, the light catches on his eyes, a trick of the light causing this gold green that's unsettling and attractive all at once. He leans into Jared's touch once Jared walks over to him because the urge to get his hands on Jensen right now is too strong to deny.

And if there's a possessive edge to the way Jared puts his arm around Jensen's shoulders, acutely aware of the girls flirting with Jensen, then, well, he can't help it.

By the time people start to leave, Jared starts to _really_ notice Jensen's body language: he’s completely plastered. He'd thought it would be a good experience for Jensen: both out for a night on the town, have some drinks, listen to some music, have fun. It should be simple. But it isn't, of course.

He's wobbling on his bar stool by this point and while Jensen's talking, it doesn't sound much like English. Jared leans in to help steady Jensen and make sure he doesn't dip right off the stool.

Bristling under Jared's grip, Jensen tries to shrug him off as he stands, his gait wobbly as they head towards an empty corner in an otherwise crowded room. Trying to steady Jensen seems useless, because he's staring at Jared's hand—at his _own_ hands—like he's discovered he has thumbs.

Jensen levels his gaze on Jared, dismissing his concern with a smirk. "You don't need to hold onto me, I can find the door myself."

His plan on finding the door involves echolocation, but by the looks of him planting his face on Jared's chest, breathing him in as he makes soft clicks against his t-shirt, it doesn't seem like he can quite remember how to do it.

Each noise feels like a kiss against Jared's collarbone, little pecks of warmth that make Jared hesitate and loosen his grip. He's lifting Jensen up by the chin, ignoring the urge to speak slowly, like that'll pierce through the fog of drink.

"Time to go, buddy," Jared says.

Nodding, Jensen takes a last wave at the revelers, testing out another click of his tongue. "Okay."

 

*

 

If Jensen had known ahead of time about all the soreness in his muscles, the tumultuous rolling of his stomach, and the muffling of his ears after spending time in a noisy enclosed space, he might've thought twice about agreeing to any spell.

But that's a lie, because handling a hangover as a human is a great deal different when he has Jared to come to the rescue. Running into the bathroom once they got back had been a great idea, but it's Jared who really puts it to good use, filing the tub with hot water and enough bubble bath to soothe Jensen's aching muscles.

It beats sitting alone in lukewarm water and clicking morosely, feeling all grumpy and achy.

"I should've been paying more attention to you," Jared sighs, setting the toilet seat lid down and sitting there. He picks up the empty, discarded bottle of bubble bath. "I didn't even know this was in here."

Shifting his weight in the tub, he can hear the loud slap of water against the tile, overflowing over the sides. Jensen groans. "My head feels like I followed a sperm whale home."

"I don't know what that means, but uh, ouch, I guess?" Jared leans back, resting a hand on his knee. He nods at the water. "Does that feel a little better?"

"A little," Jensen admits. He pokes weakly at the growing animal sponges floating on the surface, little islands of blue and green sponges between mounds of white bubbles. There are toy orcas and dolphins, too, the kind that blow water when squeezed, float belly up, all items that Chad had gotten a kick out of from the gift shop and kept stuffing in Jensen's locker, the better to steal later.

Bubbles threaten to spill out all over the already sodden bath mat as Jensen competes for shoulder room with the mess of toys, but in a way, it reminds him of how crowded the seas could get.

There's no use being fixated on the glimpses of color, because Jared is an anchor here, bringing Jensen down to reality. "So, you lost control. It happens."

He's tossing it all off with a shrug, Jensen's gut reaction having him jerk up and groan at the pain. "I thought you wanted me to learn how to find control," Jensen grumbles.

"Being human isn't about being in control, Jensen. Sometimes you—in the general sense, I mean, people. People get messy. Things are never perfect. It doesn't work that way."

Jensen slides down, staring at the winding patterns of soap and bubbles on the water's surface. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends."

Jared sighs. "The last thing I want is for you to not be yourself. Shit happens, man. You go out on a limb and hope for the best."

His hand reaches out to ruffle Jensen's soapy hair. "I just didn't want people to catch on to anything you were saying, you know?"

Jensen scoffs. "Like they'd know the difference."

"I appreciate you trying anyway," Jared ventures, grinning. "You had fun, right?"

Fun used to be being the center of attention: doing behaviors for people, or regaling his subjects with a witty anecdote or two during the gala nights. But now "fun" is tempered with the difficulties of being a human; and no matter how much Jensen can learn from Jared, there's always an instinct in the back of his mind contradicting what _this_ body wants to do.

Sometimes it feels like the only moments where he's in control of both sides to him, are in the bedroom, mind and body lining up in perfect sync.

That night, Jensen dreams of the ocean, the deep, fogged up blue of it, the edge of cliffs and the drop-off that feels like forever. A yawning chasm gives way to a valley of sloping rock and the ruins of a vast stone palace, covered in moss and coral. Arches stand sturdy against the current, as pottery and statues lie in broken pieces, slanting columns and broken roofs filled with nooks and holes to swim around in.

In the middle of it is a hall, a large gallery with an open roof, fish, penguins, stingrays, sharks, and, most importantly, dolphins swimming circles around the perimeter. They dart through the large cracks and crooked doorways of a civilization that's come and gone.

And then Jensen wakes up abruptly, soaked to the skin.

He can feel the sea deep in his bones, calling him back.

Jared rolls over, snuffling a snore against Jensen's shoulder, lips brushing his skin lightly. It's enough to send a chill through Jensen, one that brings him back to the present, Jared slowly waking up.

Jared hums, a questioning tone at the end of it.

"Bad dream," Jensen explains, curling closer to Jared's side. Sweat coats his skin, and this time it feels like the gentle pull of the sea. "Go back to sleep."

 

*

 

The morning is off to an okay start, as Jared watches Jensen wake up slowly, licking a line down the corded muscle along Jensen's neck and shoulder. Jensen takes a sharp breath, squirming as Jared murmurs, "Good morning."

But from the moment Jensen wakes up, he's tense and jumpy, shivering at every touch Jared gives him. He looks as though he's ready to go off all of a sudden, barely managing to hobble into the bathroom as Jared looks on, curious.

At work Jensen falls into step with Jared as joins him for an early morning stroll around the park.

"We need to talk," Jensen starts, shoulders hitching up as they walk. He's _fidgeting_ , Jared notices, like the last thing Jensen wants to do is talk—and starting off with a line that comes with its own sense of foreboding, Jared can feel himself get on the defensive.

"Is something wrong?" Jared asks.

"Remember when we first met?" Jensen says softly, as they come up past the iron railings and blooming flowers of one fountain, this plastic rock Shamu monstrosity. "Back at the beach, when I was stranded?"

Jared remembers yelling for air that day, pushing back curious beachgoers like he needed a bigger bubble of space for just him and Dean, because that was all he noticed or cared about. The lift, the truck, all the trainers and rescuers crowded around—hell, even Chad a few yards away, beached and refusing to go back into the water. It was the two of them back then and it's been the two of them from now on.

"Of course I do."

"You know why I was swimming so close to shore?"

"For food," Jared responds plainly. "And, um, human interaction?"

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Don't make such a big deal about your species, dude."

It's amazing how quick Jared goes from nervousness to laughter, at Jensen using slang so comfortably, but when Jensen is around, it's easy to run through emotions quickly. There's an empty bench right near the Shamu statue, and they settle down, only Jensen pulls away, ducking his head down like the answers are in the palms of his hands.

"Remember how I said I wanted to see the world and get away from my family?" Jensen looks up but not directly at him. "I'm not just some ordinary dolphin, you know what I mean? I'm not a commoner."

Jared nods. "Well, yeah. You're a Bottlenose. Not a Common dolphin."

Jensen cocks his head, acknowledging the joke, lame as it was. "Sure. But I'm also a prince."

Jared stares at him blankly, and heaven help him, he feels a bubble of laughter rise up and escape, one that settles into a nervous giggle as Jensen looks at him stoically, not even cracking a smile.

"You're—you're kidding me, right? Please tell me you're joking."

Jensen straightens, staring at the pavement. "I'm a prince," he repeats as he picks at his jeans. "And Chad's my," Jensen pauses, "Well, he's my royal attendant."

Jensen adds quickly, as if it's an afterthought, "And he's also my best man."

"You're… married?" Jared says, fitting the pieces together.

"No, I'm—I was engaged. I had a partner and I escaped with Chad so I could see the world on my own, away from the kingdom. I didn't want to be forced to marry someone I barely even knew. I can't do that. I wanted to find someone to fall in love with."

Jensen takes a deep breath, looking up at Jared. "And then I fell in love with you."

Where there should be happiness is only this tunnel vision in Jared's brain, blocking out everything around him. There's bitterness on Jared's tongue, a taste that's flat and dull. "You're engaged."

It makes Jared over analyze the past few months, second guessing his interactions. For 'Dean' to learn all the behaviors so easily without any correction or delay had left Jared thinking he had a special case on his hands.

But it's been a lie upon another lie, manipulation of what he thought was this growing understanding. But above all he feels used, like he'd given too much of himself to Jensen. Wondering if it'd all been a game, and he's just been something else to learn and use and discard.

He knows it's wrong to lay the blanket excuse, but he squares his shoulders as he says, "Promiscuity in dolphins isn't uncommon."

"Jared," Jensen says, startled, edge of anger in his voice, "it's not like that—"

"Then how is it like? You said you wanted to learn about the human experience. And you know, for a while there, I believed you. But you can't…"

Jared trails off, shaking his head. "I don't know what kind of kingdom or society or _whatever_ you're used to, but you can't just use people for kicks. You can't just use me to get out of your god damn engagement!"

When Jared gets up, Jensen's surprised at how deadly calm he is, how his voice doesn't quiver a bit. "I'm not some summer fling, and I don't want to be your, your whatever you wanted me to be! Some kind of dry-land booty call," Jared bites his lip. "This isn't how it's done, Jensen."

Jensen starts to stand up, starts to reach out and grab Jared by the wrist, but he shrugs him off, ignoring the ache inside as Jensen pleads. "No, Jared, it's—"

"You were lying to me from the start," Jared accuses, trying to keep his voice down at the scattering of workers heading towards their buildings, sending furtive glances as they walk. Soon, the park will be open and filled with life and music, not to mention the gossip that'll start behind the scenes, once they've taken a good look at their display. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Jared," Jensen repeats, but Jared is already out of his reach, taking a step back.

" _No_ , Jensen," Jared says firmly. "I can't. I don't want—"

Jensen's breath catches, and he stammers, or whatever it is that comes out of his mouth, a wheezing and frantic clicking sound. It's as close to a stammer as he gets.

"I don't want to feel like your whore," Jared says, turning to leave, trying to ignore the inevitable gaze that must be following him as he goes.

 

*

 

Never telling Jared the truth might have been the best option, Jensen thinks as he wanders through the park. Now he's completely at a loss for what to do.

Normally he would turn to Chad for support. Hell, even Jim, if only to get berated, being told, "what else did you expect?".

The roof is where Jensen thinks he'll get some semblance of quiet, and, naturally with his luck, a near heart attack, because that's when Misha shows up, suddenly sitting cross-legged next to Jensen as though he'd been there all along.

Jensen jerks in surprise, feeling a sharp sense of vertigo by the roof's edge when Misha flatly says, "Hello, Jensen."

"Holy shit!"

"I wish. Holy dung get amazing vacation hours," Misha replies, quirking his mouth. "Since you look like you're about to hork, I'm guessing you told Jared?"

"Yeah, I did," Jensen says, moving to sit beside Misha, trying to get a little to get comfortable. "Things didn't go well."

"You expected they'd go any better?"

He sticks his chin out, gritting his teeth. "No. But I wanted to be honest with him. I just need more time to explain myself. He didn't give me any. He just… walked away."

Misha sighs, his head bowing, this slow, sad shake of his head. When he looks up, Jensen can feel his stomach drop, because the look he gives isn't reassuring. It's pity. "I can't break the rules anymore than I already have."

Frowning, Jensen leans forward, the roof edge overlooking the streams of people moving into the stadium. Everyone is off continuing with their happy lives while Jensen is negotiating his own, because the alternative to this not working out is something he's not even going to think about.

"They want you back," Misha says, nodding in one direction.

Jensen knows it's the southeast, because if he takes time to listen, he can hear and feel it—the sound and lull of the ocean a hundred miles away, calling to him. It's stronger than it's been in months, as though the need has never been greater than now.

It's a calling he can't deny, as much as he wants to: not even Jared can protect him from the wrath of the ocean, because who's to say that there isn't a risk of _Jared_ being hurt the next time he steps foot in the ocean as retaliation? Or revenge?

Jensen hesitates and Misha catches onto that. "If he does love you, he'll understand. You have to give him time."

"But I don't have any time!" Jensen snaps. "Come on. You've got to help me out here."

"There's only so much I can do for you," Misha says, getting to his feet. Jensen follows, turning away from the roof edge. "Your time is up."

"What about Chad?"

"Chad has his own path. He may lead a life he chooses."

"That isn't exactly fair."

"Jensen," Misha says, with a faint smile. "I think you more than anyone else should know that life isn't fair. Some days you wake up and some crafty sea turtle's taken away your blowhole."

 

*

 

Going through a break up in an amusement park has to be ten times harder than any other workplace. Everyone's so cheery and happy around Jared, from the enthusiastic audiences to the perpetually grinning dolphins, making his own problems feel like a glaring dark stain on their sunshine.

The dolphins might _look_ happy; but they're definitely pissed off at Jared for breaking up with Jensen.

A large part of training the dolphins has to do with monitoring their vitals and behavior. That becomes quite hard to do when he's suddenly become _persona non grata_ in the dolphin world, judging by the way they slap their tails and clap their jaws at him, signs of anger. Ironically it turns out to be like this strange type of divorce: Jared gets the humans while Jensen gets the animals.

Everyone else is completely baffled as to how the animals are unresponsive to him, and it stings to have the hapless shrugs and looks of pity thrown his way when a command to 'handshake' has him getting sprayed in the face with water instead.

"Have you been using different hand signals? Perhaps you're not getting through to them," Lauren calls over, clipboard in hand. Seated down near her, Alona, one of the newer trainers, rubs Spirit's head, sending a confused look Jared's way.

"No, nothing," Jared answers, ignoring the urge to clamber out of the tank. "I've always done the same stuff."

Always, because he knows Jensen—no, wait, it was when he was Dean, well whoever he was, he didn't like it when Jared got his signals or commands mixed up by accident.

It's completely unfair how Jensen still seeps into Jared's thoughts, like the foods he liked or the movies he'd watch, or the type of jeans he'd agree to wear after finally agreeing that 24/7 in spandex might not be a great idea, stripping down his wetsuit to show the little bumps of irritation peppering down his side.

_"You have sensitive skin," Jared had said, laughing at Jensen's annoyed face._

If the animals could talk to him they'd probably be telling him off.

Then, of course, there's the cheery park to deal with, like the rows of blue, green, and hell, even purple dolphins at the gift shop, this glittery, rubbery sea of merchandise. Squealing kids weave in and out of the area, some barely reaching Jared's waist, crying and yelling at their parents to buy them whatever cutesy merchandise they can get their hands on.

There's something inherently wrong in how Jared really wants to punch a load of stuffed animals in the face.

But he's here, because it's after work and Katie wanted to drop by and catch up with Danneel and Sophia.

In any other day, Jared would be totally fine with it. Except that this particular gift shop employs Chad, who's already gravitating to an empty register right near Jared.

For one blissful second, Jared can swear Chad is ready to drift back out, this hesitant hitch of his shoulders, like he's recognized an old acquaintance and he's trying to find a place to bail. But Chad doesn't back down; he's marching on. "Hey, Jared."

"I'm not talking to you," Jared says. "I'm not doing the whole 'I tell you stuff and then you report back to Jensen about how miserable I am' deal. It's not going to work."

"Aha, so you're miserable? His majesty will be pleased," Chad says, twining his fingers in a sinister manner.

It's really tempting to try and punch Chad. Jared thinks he must get that a lot.

"Kidding! I just thought we'd let bygones be bygones. There's no point in trying to give any advice to you two," Chad says.

"Okay," Jared says tentatively, but Chad is nowhere near done.

"I mean it's not like he's blameless for not telling you the truth sooner. What the hell do I know, anyway? I just helped the guy break out of his kingdom so he could finally see the world for himself and learn about you humans and maybe escape a loveless, arranged marriage he felt confined to."

Jared raises an eyebrow. "Reverse psychology isn't going to work either."

"Oh, come on," Chad exhales, thinking for a moment. He spreads his hands out in front of him, saying bluntly, "You're what he wants. You're why he's here."

Jared braces a hand on the counter edge, barely able to believe that Chad's not bullshitting him but Chad's usual smirk is completely wiped from his face. Shit. He's not lying. "So, what? You're telling me that I'm not just some kind of excuse he can use to get out of his engagement."

"What, Jessica? _Her_?"

"Who?"

"Never mind who. She's not—" Chad sighs. "Look, Jared. He's always been a stand up guy. Yeah, he's a prince and kind of a dick sometimes, but he's always been stuck doing what's expected. Then his parents told him he's got to marry someone he doesn't love and—"

"That's great, Chad," Jared breaks in. "I'm glad Jensen's been lying to me all this time."

"Oh, don't be a bitch, bitch," Chad says. "Like you always do everything on the straight and narrow?"

Jared resists wiping that smirk off Chad's face.

"I mean doing what you're supposed to? Where's the fun in that? Life's supposed to be an adventure. Arranged marriages blow! You've got to hear Jensen out. He doesn't have time—"

Jared shakes his head. "I can't, Chad. I just can't."

Relief and disappointment washes over him when Katie comes over to him, tugging him away, his conversation with Chad cut short.

 

*

 

Jensen tried just about everything to get Jared's attention, hoping for a free minute to explain. Jared inevitably finds a loophole out of every conversation. In a busy environment like this, it's easy to do it—whether it's a large influx of giddy campers or when one of the calves needs monitoring, there is always an excuse for work to get in the way.

The closest Jensen gets after their fight is when he's trying to break up an argument between Gabe and Milo, brushing up on his own rusty diplomat skills.

'Come on, you don't need to fight over fish,' Jensen says, resting on his haunches and rubbing Milo's head. A tall shadow blots out the smooth dolphin's flank, and it doesn't take long for the shadow to speak up.

"That's cheating," Jared murmurs. Getting Jared to finally speak is its own special prize, because as Jensen squints in the sunlight up at him, the smirk there is plain as day. A quick twitch of his lips and Jared leaves, muttering about cleaning the tank.

Jensen gets it. Jared has every right to be angry at him. But in an event where Jared needs time and space for the wound to heal, Jensen doesn't have much time left.

After that day, it's the first sign to break the ice. They start to work side by side again well—once Jensen tells the animals to lift their so called boycott against Jared—but as soon as work is over, they split and go their separate ways. It would be enough if it wasn't for the knowledge that once work ends, Jensen has to wait until morning to see Jared again. Every morning brings him closer to the last day of the spell.

Before all this, all he needed was to swim. It came natural as breathing did, but swimming until his muscles burned and lungs ached for air. It's an adrenaline rush he misses, soaring up and waiting to crash back down. A wild and crazy joyride used to clear his head.

It's scary to imagine a world without swimming, but it's scarier to imagine a world without Jared.

So when Jared heads back home, Jensen is left cooped up with Chad, drinking beer and watching reruns of _Flipper_. And while Flipper is one of their finest actors—always cursing up a storm whenever the humans give him commands—it doesn't make up for the Jared-sized hole in his chest.

Metaphorically speaking of course. It would be horrible to have a human-sized hole in his human-sized body. A considerably larger-sized human, to boot.

 

*

 

The last day of the spell starts out like any other morning. Jensen manages to wake early and pull on a hoodie, feeling an ache in his muscles. He shuffles into the parking lot, throat tasting like copper and a hint of toothpaste he didn't wash away.

Little things, little human routines seem harder to keep up with when he's tired.

Tired and alone, comes the thought, as he hears that deep, rich laugh behind him, trailing off with hellos to the other workers.

Out back behind the employee area in the parking lot, the trucks are being loaded up with equipment and small coolers. At first glance, it looks as though they're getting ready for an afternoon trip to the beach, but once Jensen sees the trucks and lift equipment, old memories come back to the surface.

"Big day today, huh?"

Jared looks like he's just woken up, eyes puffy, bangs plastered to his forehead from his morning shower. Shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously.

Jensen can feel his fingers open and close, desperate to touch him, reassure him with a steady hand. But it's like he's changing already, his animal nature rising to the surface. How easily his feelings shift to the purest form, to _need_ and _want_.

To _lust_ , if his stare and Jared's awkward shuffle is anything to go by.

"Yeah," Jensen manages to say, clearing his throat. His voice sounds scratchy and weird, and he feels _hot_ , too, not because of the weather or the clothes, more like he's feverish. The heat inside starting to make him dizzy. "Guess it is."

Jared though, seems to pick up on it. Suddenly he's standing close, all awkwardness gone, concern on his face. Crowding Jensen, shoulder bumping as they stand near one of the nearby SUVs, side emblazoned with the blue _SeaWorld_ logo. The air feels sticky and moist with humidity, already working its way into Jared, judging by the pit stains on his shirt.

"Are you all right?" he finally says, raising a hand to touch but he stops, hesitating. "You look like you've got a fever."

"I'll live," Jensen responds as he squints up at the overcast sky. "How many are stranded?"

"They think it's a pod," Jared sighs, bracing an arm on the roof of the SUV. "There have been reports that the coastal dolphin activity has gone up in the past few months. You know anything about that?"

He's tapping the roof now, this pause as though he's giving Jensen the chance to speak up about it. Whatever pull the sea might have on him doesn't work in reverse—he can guess as much as Jared as to what is going on, still left in the dark with Jared being the only thing he's looking out for.

"They might be looking for me," Jensen ventures. "But I don't know anything more than that."

The tapping stops and Jared pushes off the SUV, his eyes narrowing. "All right."

He gives a wave with two fingers, then heads over to one of the waiting SUVs, nearly bumping into Chad. From the look Chad's giving him, the day is becoming more foreboding, because there's no smile there, no smirk. Just complete seriousness as Chad hooks an arm around Jensen's shoulder and takes him aside.

"What are you doing?" Chad asks, his voice low. "Are you heading out with them?"

"What other choice do I have? It's over. I'm not going to stay here and change back. I can't pretend none of this ever happened," Jensen says. "And the thought of just being 'Dean the Dolphin' again?" Jensen sighs. "I can't do it anymore."

"Yeah. The dolphin show schedule's kind of a bitch," Chad agrees. "And hey, you've got your own audience back home waiting for you."

Jensen scowls at him, but Chad cuts off any snide remark, saying, "You have obligations to your people. Like an explanation, at least."

Jensen nods, clapping Chad on the back. "You, uh, want to come with?"

"Nah," Chad says, punching Jensen on the shoulder. "I think I'll stick around here for a while. Maybe hitch a ride to Hollywood, get my big break."

"Or you can continue to live off of Jim," Jensen says. "Like a barnacle."

Chad beams. "That sounds like an awesome plan. We don't have to hug, right? You look like you're about to hork."

"I'll be fine," Jensen says, waving off his concern, ignoring the scratchiness in his throat as he tries to speak. "Do me a favor. If, um, if anyone asks why, make up the most ridiculous story."

"Really?" Chad says, and Jensen can see what the humans call the wheels turning in his head. "First thing I'm doing, I'm going with alien abduction. Humans really seem to be freaked out by people living up in space. Can't wait until a real sea monster decides to surface and really make 'em wet their pants."

"Thanks," Jensen says, sincerely, ignoring Chad's invocation of the Great Old Ones. He turns around and heads toward the cars. Towards home.

Jared stands in between the cars. He turns his head away when Jensen catches his gaze.

Once they're all loaded up, the drive to the coast takes a few hours, with Aldis driving, Katie riding shotgun, and Jensen sharing the back seat with Jared. They're trying to attain some kind of normalcy by focusing on the scenery outside. Better to look at the trees and skies than think about the sun moving across the sky and how the minutes tick ever closer to his impending change.

With the radio blaring and the walkie-talkies on stand by, Katie is carrying on a few conversations at once. She'll sing along with the radio before she'll quiet down when the loud static pop of the Coast Guard come on. Then there's the endless phone calls relaying directions between the trucks and SUVs. It's hard to carry a conversation with all these interruptions, which works out since they're both unsure of what to talk about.

The ride takes a turn for the awkward when Jensen pulls away from the window, trying to ignore his pale reflection. The skin on his neck is almost grey in patches, like he's suffering from some weird rash or skin discoloration. When Jensen catches Jared staring at him curiously, his shoulders hitch, pulling the collar of his hoodie up.

"I haven't been to the beach in months," Jensen says. "It'll be good to go back."

"Yeah," Jared says distractedly, staring out the window.

Jensen shifts his weight uneasily, eyeing a spot on Jared's thigh, a bleach stain on his jeans. "I'm sorry."

Almost too quick to notice, Jared's mouth twists a little, right at the corners. Jensen knows enough now to recognize that it's not a smile.

They're quiet for the rest of the trip, going their separate ways when they arrive at the shore and docks. A boat is loaded up and ready to go and patrol the area, trying to search for a possible cause for the beachings.

Jensen hesitates before he steps onto the boat, almost stumbling into Jared.

Within twenty minutes out to sea, a murky set of clouds roll in, the sky darkening and going overcast. The first thunderclap hits, a loud crack in the darkening sky.

"Looks like a storm," Jared whispers, his knee knocking into Jensen's leg for the fifth time since they've sat together. The boat isn't very big—it's not even close to the size of the booze cruise boat that led to Jensen being stranded on land. It's a diving boat, with low railings all around, the easier to fall back on and plunge with the heavy equipment strapped to their backs. Only they haven't suited up, not for this.

Jensen doesn't answer, instead focusing his gaze on the horizon. The pinpricks of grey dolphin heads bobbing up out of the water about a few hundred feet out. The small pod remains still, as though they're aware of who's on the boat, sizing up the rest of the group.

Aldis holds onto the controls, lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes. "Why aren't they moving?"

"Maybe they want to see what happened to the other members of the pod," Katie suggests, waiting for Aldis to pass over the binoculars. "That's weird."

"That's creepy, that's what it is," Aldis says. "Am I the only one who saw that _Simpsons_ episode with the dolphin invasion?"

Getting to his feet is hard with the constant rocking of the boat, but Jensen manages to do so, feeling Jared grasp for his arm. "You all need to go back to shore right now," he says urgently.

Katie and Aldis look over at Jensen like he has two heads, and he pretty much feels like it. His head is spinning.

"Why?" Jared asks, brow furrowing. "What's the matter?"

"I can't stay here. The sea wants me back."

Before Jared can respond, another burst of thunder is heard above and the water beneath the boat gets choppier, viciously slapping against the boat. Jared starts to shout at Katie and Aldis, telling them to hold on to something, but his own grip on the railing gets loose when an especially hard wave makes the boat buck up, slapping back down, throwing everyone off-balance.

It sends Jared crashing, his head smacking against the railing before he falls backwards into the water, slipping out of Jensen's reach.

There's no question that Jensen will dive in after Jared, momentarily stunned at the pressure that starts to pull at him, how the water fills his nose and mouth, threatening to fill his lungs.

Being out at sea is a far cry from being in a pool or water park. The water goes on in every direction, a wall of blue filled with bubbles and microscopic particles that could suffocate him right now if he lets it.

He doesn't feel the change happen yet, too occupied with Jared than checking the sky to see how close he is for it to occur.

Once he gets his bearings, Jensen twists his body and pushes down, plowing through the water in quick strokes to find Jared. A wispy trail of dark liquid emanates from Jared's temple, a fresh burst of blood that barely misses Jensen's eyes as he loops his arms around Jared's chest.

There's this biological urge or instinct, or whatever it is, it spells out _air, breathe air_ in Jensen's mind, trying vainly to swim up to the surface. But Jared is too heavy and woozy, limbs hanging uselessly. Jensen offers Jared a little shake of his shoulder, mouth opening to release a stream of bubbles.

"Swim," Jensen mouths once Jared meets his eyes. And so Jared does, coming into consciousness as Jensen half-drags him up through the water.

Soon enough, their heads break through the surface, taking in great gulps of air. Jensen whips his head around, bobbing in the waves and seeing the boat not far off, the current not as strong as it was a minute ago. Katie and Aldis are shouting at them frantically, trying to get the boat to turn around.

"Jared!" Jensen shouts, sputtering as he hacks up a mouthful of water. It's cold enough to have him shiver, but he's still clinging to Jared, trying to push some warmth into him. "Can you hear me?"

Jared nods, teeth chattering. "Yes."

"Now we're even," Jensen says, trying to keep it light and failing miserably. Above him, he can see the clouds and sun streaked sky, feeling the sea pull at him. But Jared's safe now, and that's what matters. The water is still choppy but there's a light blooming out from underneath, luminous and pale blue. His head snaps up, pricks and needles going up his legs, this sudden urge to talk and _stay_ , because this is a bad idea, he can't leave yet. He's babbling, trying to get his words out over the loud rush of waves.

"I'm sorry, Jared, I wanted to tell you—"

The water starts to churn around them, a strange whirlpool that has them both struggling to keep afloat.

Jensen moves forward with purpose, grabbing Jared, hands on his face as he kisses him fiercely.

It's hard to say goodbye when he feels like a weight settling on his chest, the water starting to spark and foam as though it's boiling. Even harder when he feels like his skull is splitting open, water and air rushing in, this heaviness that drags him down underwater.

His clothes split and tear, that familiar ripple through his skin and bones. The water's surface pulls away as his body shifts and grows. Where it had been harder to swim and breathe comes a feeling of calm and relaxation in a body—his old body—that's made for this environment.

His lungs burn as he pushes to the surface, taking in air and the sight of a shocked Jared.

Another push of his tail and he's already swimming away, the pod of waiting dolphins following after him.

 

*

 

By the time they get back to the park, Jared's mood is somber and numb, while the trip is written off as a success for all involved. Jensen's disappearance and Jared's head wound notwithstanding. Katie and Aldis are too shell shocked to talk about just what happened, steadfastly denying seeing the burst of light and a dolphin coming out, because it sounds too insane. Jared can relate.

But then he sees there's no official log of Jensen ever going on the boat with them—he's never been here, never showed up to work that day, they decide. "He's left town," Jared hears Katie saying, this repetition that passes more as an excuse than a wistful reassurance—like he's left for business but he'll be back in no time.

Jared knows it isn't true; none of it is. He wonders if it has whatever it _is_ that brought Jensen to him in the first place, that a spell that creates a human out of thin air and snatches him away just as quickly, that it has the power to make it seem like he's ceased to exist. That it's too strange to think about, to accept. He laughs bitterly, thinking of how conveniently everything was when Jensen came into his life.

And it's just as easy for him to leave it.

It doesn't help that Chad and Jim the janitor are the first to meet Jared when he gets out of the SUV, his head bandaged. Anger flares up in Jared, but he needs some damn answers as to why he's still here and Jensen isn't.

"I know you've got a lot of questions," Chad says, leaning on the edge of the desk. They're in one of the offices, a sense of ironic normalcy throughout—just hours ago, he'd been drowning in the vastness of the ocean, but here he is in a room with cheap desks and mounds of paperwork, everything drab and ordinary.

"Yeah? You think?" Jared bites out, his leg pumping. "'Cause you happened to leave that part out."

He looks over at Jim. "And why the hell are you here?"

If looks could kill, Jared is sure he would've evaporated by now, the way Jim is staring at him. Jared flinches, his hand going to the bandage, as though being wounded might stop Jim from smacking him.

"I did the same thing that Jensen did thirty years ago," Jim explains. "Only I wasn't half the fool he was. Didn't have a kingdom to look after."

"If his—his kingdom or his fiancé or whatever," Jared starts, too angry to process that Jim is a _former dolphin_ , "if that's all so important to him, then why'd he leave in the first place?"

"'Cause the boy was a fool and that damn sea turtle gave him a way to escape," Jim replies. He looks to Chad, as if waiting for him to deny it, but Chad says nothing, keeping his head down.

"Sea turtle?" Jared thinks stalling might be a good idea. Because if there's magical sea turtles involved, then he really needs an aspirin. He fumbles in the drawer nearby, pushing aside pens and Post-It notes as Chad answers.

"Misha. He's a wish-granting sea turtle. Sometimes he shows up as a human. He's the one responsible for all this."

Jared sighs, wanting to rub his temples before his right hand comes in contact with the bandage. Scowling he rubs the bridge of his nose. "What about you, Chad? Why didn't you go back with him?"

"I could go back, too, but what's the point?" Chad shrugs. "He doesn't need me watching over him anymore. Plus, can't get HBO there. And I'm hooked on _True Blood_."

Jared nods distractedly, trying to piece it all together. "If Jensen wished to be human, then why couldn't he stay? Didn't Misha ever hear of no take backs?"

"This ain't the school playground, Jared," Jim says, moving to sit next to Jared on the desk, looking pleased as hell when Jared flinches. He's just trying to be _safe_ , damn it, and it's pretty hard to do so when he's suffering a head wound and the ache in his chest, that's pressing down just as hard as the water had been mere hours before.

Jim continues, "It's not easy. These kind of things come with conditions. I was in the same place Jensen was in. But I didn't have the fancy background he did. I was mindin' my own business and I met this woman and fell in love. But I had my chance. I got to be human, got a life with her. God rest her soul, but I wouldn't have traded that time I had with her for anything.

"I loved her and she loved me. That's how I stayed," Jim finishes, pulling off his cap as he wipes his brow.

"Are you saying...?" Jared trails off, because if that's what Jim is saying, then Jared… doesn't want to face the truth now. That it can't possibly be _that_.

It can't be that Jensen loved him and—Jensen loving Jared, he can admit that it feels true deep down, but he can't bring himself to admit that love here is a two way street, and he'd never told Jensen how he felt. Jared might be confused but he does still have feelings that are certainly the strongest he's ever felt for someone. But time, tricky thing that it is, has run out.

And now Jared has had the rug pulled out from under him, the bliss of something brilliant and new snatched before he could get used to the change.

Chad shrugs. "Could've been worse. He could be sea foam right now."

Both Jared and Jim stare at him, this awkward pause as Chad raises his hands up. "Sorry! Guy gets bored, sometimes he'll crack open a book about this stuff."

Strange as though it may be, Jared latches on to Chad's comment—book. Research. If there's one thing Jared is good at, it's research. His own work might be languishing in the unfinished pile, but the least he can do is try to figure out a way to bring Jensen back, right? There has to be a way to reach him.

Baby steps, Jared realizes. "I need to talk to Misha," he says, already moving to get up. Jim grabs Jared by the arm, pulling him down.

"The best thing for you to do right now is take a breather," Jim states.

"I can't sit around here and do nothing!" Jared snaps, his voice cracking at the end of it. "Who knows what they're doing to him!"

"Throwing him a parade… His dad chewin' his ear off… Endless torment by shrimp…" Chad ticks off each option on his fingers. "They're a very enthusiastic bunch. Flicking their tails all over you. It's not enjoyable," Chad says, shaking his head.

Jim stands up, and this time his grip is calmer but steadying, his gaze locked with Jared's. He can't see anything remotely dolphin in Jim—other than the calm grace, perhaps, the stubbornness. Thirty years might not seem like much to other people, but for Jim, just the fact that he's been set in a world he's unused to, and then dealing with it on his own now… Jared doesn't want to let Jensen be alone like that.

Jared doesn't want to be alone, either. He needs Jensen here, now.

"Give it time. Misha isn't gonna come to you first thing. According to those two knuckleheads, he pops in whenever he chooses, so get yourself some rest, first. Then once you talk to him, you'll get your options."

Jared agrees with him, but that doesn't help the fact that the ache inside him is getting stronger.

 

*

 

Despite the fact that Chad and Jim are now comfortable with talking to Jared about everything ocean related—and everything Jensen—it doesn't make up for the fact that without Jensen around, after a few days things start to fall into place just as they had been before, without a ripple of upset.

Between Chad's elaborate tales of alien abduction and the old fashioned option, _he has business elsewhere_ , people around the park are sad to see Jensen go, but no one is near as sad as Jared. His hours get longer and he doesn't protest the fact—with a TiVo filled with a backlog of _Animal Planet_ documentaries and old _Law & Order: SVU_ repeats, he has his share of entertainment.

If he buries the stack of ocean-related DVDs in the back of his cabinet, well, it's not like he's _avoiding_ the issue. He faces it head on every single day, only it's become less of his job and more like going through the motions, that uneasiness more present than ever.

It doesn't help that a week after Jensen leaving, Jared is feeding Winchester when Misha finally decides to show up. Not in turtle form, so there's that, at least.

"You must be Jared! I'm Misha," he says, grabbing Jared's hand and pumping energetically. "It's an absolute pleasure. How's the head?"

Misha isn't what Jared is expecting. Of course, he's glad Misha is a human at the moment rather than a sea turtle, so they can communicate. He didn't expect the crazy outfit though. It's kind of horrifying to see a 90's bedazzled woman's blouse matched with Santa-style red pants, white fur cuffs and all.

The stadium stands are empty and Misha's sitting in the splash zone of the seats, right in the first row. He has this weird twitchiness to him that unsettles Jared.

Jared lowers the bucket of fish, trying to ignore the ludicrousness of the situation. Standing in a wetsuit with a gigantic whale behind him, and here's Misha, giving him a toothy grin.

"What did you do to Jensen?" Jared says. It's the first thing that comes to mind and he tries not to glare when Misha sighs and rolls his eyes, like he's boring him.

"What _didn't_ I do to Jensen? Jared, I'm surprised. You know what I did," Misha says. "You read about it in your studies."

Jared folds his arms. "Shapeshifting? Mermaids?"

"The _Encantado_. Ah, now you get it," Misha says lightly as Jared jerks in recognition of the term. "You know, my wish-granting license was revoked in Brazil."

"But you're a turtle."

"So judgmental," Misha sniffs. "I come from a long line of wish-granters. They never mention the turtles unless we're mutant turtles. Donatello was my favorite."

It's like having a conversation with the Mad Hatter. Only if the Hatter was more insane and was wearing an 80's style _Let's Get Physical_ headband.

Winchester presses his nose against the glass, an impatient whine in the water. The bucket is still full of fish, and Jared is too nervous to turn around and feed him, because one wrong move and Misha could be gone just as sudden as he arrived. There's no knowing how powerful he is, but judging by the man that Jensen was, he must be pretty damn powerful.

"That was the whole plan all along? For Jensen to take me with him?"

"No. There wasn't a set plan," Misha says, pulling out a box of Cracker Jacks from thin air. "I gave him the tools to try and win your heart, and by the looks of it, he succeeded. Moping doesn't become you."

When Jared scoffs, it's an automatic response, the forced laughter shrill enough to make him wince. "Yeah, well, he had someone else waiting at home for him."

"What, the arranged marriage? Some of us can't help what we're born into. We either carry it out, or we change it. Monotony is boring, don't you think? I was supposed to be an evil wish-granter but I decided to err on the side of good. No matter what the Brazilian authorities might claim. It's not like I tried to inspire an uprising again."

"What the hell does that mean to me?" Jared asks.

"Do you love Jensen?"

"What?"

"Easy question, I say answer with yes, no, or aardvark."

"I—" Jared should say no. Even if Misha can tell it's a lie, he should lie. He should ignore how it's a phantom ache inside of him, that he can't contemplate never seeing Jensen again. He should say that he can't forgive Jensen, that he's thick-headed enough to harden his heart. That he can ignore the forgiveness brimming inside, threatening to wash away all his anger, until there's nothing left but regret and the desperate, half-insane notion that he could set things right.

"Well?"

"Yes, I love him."

"I did say one word so I should dock you but you have wonderful hair," Misha says, like that explains everything. "I'd like to help."

" _Help?_ " Jared scoffs, incredulous. "I'm here, and he isn't. There's no changing that."

"Maybe there is," Misha says slowly, a grin spreading on his face again, this dawning idea that has Jared taking a precarious step back. A crackling pop goes off in Jared's ears, like a plane taking off. He winces and pulls at his earlobes, a weird muffling noise turning sharper and sharper as he hears Winchester whine in the tank again.

Only this time, it's not the soft moan of an orca. It's actual _words_.

'You better throw that fish in already,' Winchester is saying. 'If you know what's good for you!'

Jared staggers, this double take that has him staring at Misha, then Winchester, and back again. "How?"

Misha shrugs. "I think another three months to sort out your affairs is a good idea. Go for broke, Jared, get your own apartment. Less chance of Chad setting up a house party there."

And he disappears just like that, with Winchester still grumbling about the fish behind Jared.

 

*

It doesn't take three months like Misha said.

According to Jensen, it takes about seven different persuasive conversations with various coast guard employees and one very shocked boat of confused fishermen. It takes the kindness of strangers to offer to drop off the dripping wet and quasi-naked guy to the nearest bus station. It takes the pity of a class of very trusting fifth-graders to let him hitch a ride in the backseat of their bus during their class trip.

It takes approximately two days, five hours and forty-seven minutes for Jensen to walk back into Jared's life wearing stolen board shorts and a "Remember the Alamo" t-shirt.

Jared blinks in shock and drops the entire bucket of fish into the penguin habitat. They scramble and jump at him in some kind of frenzy as they celebrate a surprise feast.

Ignoring the Rockhopper penguin tugging at his ankles, Jared climbs over the edge of the habitat to where Jensen is. He's human and he needs a shave. It looks like he hasn't eaten or drank in days because his lips are cracked and his eyes have dark bags under them. But Jared doesn't hesitate, grabbing Jensen by the shoulders, feeling the real skin and muscle and _him_ underneath the palm of his hands.

Jensen smiles bigger than Jared's ever seen him, lines at the sides of his eyes crinkling.

"So, I heard you love me?" he says.

Jared finds his voice after a moment, scanning Jensen's face. It's hard to talk when he realizes Jensen's here now, that this is real. "How did you—?"

"One minute I'm down below negotiating a new border treaty, and the next I'm human and I'm swimming to the surface for air and I just—" Jensen licks his lips, taking a deep breath. "I just knew."

"But Misha said would take three months!" Jared says. "It's only been two days since I talked to him. I thought I was supposed to live my own life."

Jensen scoffs, "Misha... He was fucking with you. He does that."

"Yeah, and then he gave me the power to understand sea creatures," Jared adds, feeling weird about putting it out there like that. Jensen understands, sure, but it's still feels strange.

Jensen cocks his head. "Wait, what?"

Jared shrugs, gesturing to the nearby penguins. "It's been... interesting? Crazy but interesting. The sea lions really like me. All the sharks tend to have a lisp. Jeff keeps asking me to bring him lunchables or trick Mike into rubbing his tongue. And I'm pretty sure the penguins have started a cult very loosely based on Scientology."

Jensen grabs Jared's face, raising an eyebrow. "Do I have to speak in Dolphin to get your attention?"

Jared shakes his head. "No. But I still have a lot to learn."

"I could teach you, since I'm sticking around for good this time," Jensen says carefully.

"I love you," Jared says, and that's his answer. This time, it doesn't feel hard to say at all. It's effortless.

"I love you too, Jared," Jensen says fondly, cupping Jared's cheek. He pushes away his wet bangs, thumb brushing droplets off. "Just. Don't recite the Dolphin Alphabet again. Ever."

Jared rolls his eyes, and takes a cue from Jensen, muffling any other comment when Jared's mouth catches Jensen's own, tongue prodding, soft and then sure.

"Yeah. I'll try to remember that," Jared says with a laugh.


End file.
